


Seven Days of Light or Darkness

by SeraphsFallen (FallenSeraphs)



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VIII, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Crack, Drama, Dubious Consent, F/M, Kept Man, Kingdom Hearts 2 Divergent, M/M, Old Work Rewrite, Porn With Plot, Rare Pairings, Romance, Romanticized Problematic Relationship, Serious Prologue Not So Serious Story, Villain Gets Sandbagged for Fic-Canonical Reasons, this fic has it all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2020-03-14 15:11:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenSeraphs/pseuds/SeraphsFallen
Summary: In seven days, Leon must prove to Sephiroth that he is to be kept in Cloud's stead. Will he shine a light on the darkness inside the cold man's heart? Or will the black secrets surrounding Sephiroth and Cloud both mire him in a labyrinth of darkness?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shynies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shynies/gifts).



Prologue

  
The walls of The Coliseum echoed with the hiss of sand as Leon fell, thrown backwards, the rough ground digging into his skin. His limbs burned with fire. His lungs shook. His mouth opened up towards the sky, parched throat snatching desperately for air.

He tightened his gloved fingers around the hilt of his Gunblade, preparing to rise and strike again. No use. As the weight of his opponent’s boot crushed down against his hand, his knuckles ground against each other with a sickly _crick crick crick._

Steel pierced through his torso. Pain reverberated through his body in a shockwave, his hips and shoulders convulsing, jerking upwards. He cried out through clenched teeth.

Above, Sephiroth watched.

“For you to foolishly challenge me for his freedom, tell me…” For all his violence, Sephiroth’s tone remained as impassive as his face, as steady as his breathing, untroubled by the fight, “What is Cloud to you?”

Suppressing the pained shudders of his body, Leon found his voice, “…A friend.” The corner of his lips twitched upward in a sad smirk. His mouth worked for a moment before he was able to speak again, “…But… what does that matter to you?” he swallowed. “…I’ve lost.”

Sephiroth’s thin pupils flickered over him. “I fail to see what keeps him bound to you and the others.”

Leon’s pathetic grin widened. “…Never… expected you to.”

Sephiroth studied him for a moment more, then finally unsheathed the Masamune from his body. Warm blood sputtered from the wound.

Sephiroth’s strange eyes narrowed, shadowed by long silver lashes. “I don’t suppose you could explain it to me…”

Leon nearly laughed at the pure absurdity of the words. His effort not to shot another dose of pain through his veins. “Would be… a waste of breath.”

“Hn,” Sephiroth replied, almost amused. He withdrew his boot from Leon’s hand, leaving it shaking in numb relief. “I wonder…” He cocked his head to the side, long hair shifting over his shoulder. A flash of danger crossed his face. “What else would you do to keep Cloud from me?”

“What… are you getting at?” Leon’s own expression harden and spark like flint. “What is he to you?”

“What does it matter?” A smirk stretched across Sephiroth’s thin lips. He pulled a Potion from his coat and pushed the bottle into Leon’s injured fingers, not caring to be gentle. It would only be enough to stop the bleeding, nothing more. “Am I not giving you another chance? You would be wise to take it.”

Leon did his best to ignore that smirk. Uneasiness settled alongside the sharp ache of his stomach. He took a greedy swig of the Potion, trying to swallow the liquid, the apprehension, all of it down. He could not bring himself to fail Cloud again. “… What do I have to do?”

Green eyes flickered— feral cat’s eyes. “I will keep you for seven days,” Sephiroth pulled Leon up by the arm, his grip already claiming his prize, “and if in that time you prove I should hold you captive in Cloud’s stead, I will not touch him— so long as you remain mine.”

  
-

  
Leon’s jacket and shirt laid in a tented heap on the floor. The red belts that had earlier hung from his hips now bound his wrists, chaining him to the thin iron bars of Sephiroth’s headboard. As his eyelids closed, he felt a downward tug on his waistband. Down, down, past his open thighs, gathering at his knees. The contact with the air made him shiver, vulnerable.

The tip of Sephiroth’s tongue dragged over his stomach. It traced a line where Masamune had pierced him little more than an hour ago. Sephiroth ran the tongue back and forth over the healed wound, and then again— a wordless message. As if by stabbing Leon, he had planted a claim in him there was no getting rid of.

It should have annoyed Leon, but underneath that tongue, that mouth, that heated breath ghosting his skin— his muscles couldn’t help but twitch and tremble with pleasure and shame.

But despite his shame, he was not going to turn back.

Even if he wanted to, his body ached with pain, far too weary from the fight to put up much resistance. But there were good reasons why he did not want to— he had seen Cloud’s injured blue eyes too many times for it to be a passing whim.

He had been fully prepared to die for Cloud, there, bloodied and defeated on the sands of the Coliseum. He would have gladly done as much and more. As far as sacrifices went, this was not the worst Leon could do. No matter how much contempt he had for Sephiroth’s past actions, the bastard was _not_ bad to look at. With his eyes closed, Leon could almost pretend this was all a sick fantasy.

He would stay and bend to the whims of this bed— at least until a better option came along.

His thoughts were cut off by his own gasp as Sephiroth’s tongue dipped into his navel, sending a jolt directly to his groin. He heard the purr of a hunter who had found his prey, felt the shift of long, silk hair over his bared waist as Sephiroth pulled himself closer and swirled his tongue in again, pushing in harder. Gloved fingers ran up Leon’s side, petting him as if guiding him through his shudders.

Leon sucked in his bottom lip. It didn’t help. He heard his own soft, guilty moan as Sephiroth nipped into him with sharp teeth.

The butter-soft touch of Sephiroth’s gloves continued to claim the dips in his muscles, his naked chest. That damned wicked mouth closed over his nipple, sucking the skin taught, and Leon heard himself moan again, his mouth falling open. Leather fingertips raked down his lower stomach and stopped, shifting to tease the hardened base of his cock to life.

Leons hips instinctively jerked upward into that pressure, that smooth touch, that sure grip. His rutting made the bed creak beneath him. He could hear his own panting now— it filled his ears, rough and pleading. His bare hands flexed against his bindings and he found he liked the way the belts bit into his wrists and tugged back. The sharp pain was exquisite.

Sephiroth pressed his mouth against Leon’s neck, smirking, knowing Leon could feel the curve of his lips against his skin. He chuckled, the sound as dark and empty as the space behind Leon’s eyelids. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Leon swallowed to keep his silence, managing to keep some horror with himself intact. He had signed up for a fuck, and— _Shiva’s breath_ — this was turning out to be a fuck, but he was falling apart so easily underneath someone he should hate.

Sephiroth surprised and confused him. At once, he was gentler than Leon believed the man ever capable of, and then as rough as he had imagined.

Hot breath ghosted over the line of his scar, lips brushing over the shell of his ear. A hand, free of leather, pushed against his mouth. “Suck,” Sephiroth commanded, biting into his lobe. His other hand continued to pump Leon's erection.

Dark lashes peeled open, blue eyes regarding the naked hand steadily. A bit of wickedness hit Leon. Taking the digits into his mouth, he ran his tongue up and down each finger before sucking obediently, smirking inwardly with vengeance at the startled groan against his ear.

The smirk grew as Sephiroth’s free hand shuffled to release himself from his constricted pants. There was another satisfaction to be had in how flushed and hard Sephiroth’s cock was. Far more than Leon believed Sephiroth ever wanted to let on.

Sephiroth withdrew his fingers and captured Leon’s bottom lip between his with a harsh bite. He rubbed at Leon’s hole only a brief moment before pressing in, fingering him with rough, deep strokes. His free hand grabbed Leon’s hip like a vice, pulling him close, erections sliding against each other in damp, heated friction.

Groans vibrated through their lips as they kissed and bit at each other’s mouths with blunt teeth. Leon’s knees fell open, his mind abandoning any last shred of defiance.

Sephiroth’s fingers pulled out and the head of his swollen cock pressed against Leon.

Leon’s back bowed into a sharp arc as that cock thrust inside, his mouth breaking from the other’s kiss to cry out, his restraints crackling against his wrists.

_Gods_ , but Leon couldn’t deny the way that cock filled him.

Sephiroth bit down into Leon’s shoulder, fingers digging into his hips hard enough to bloom bruises as he drove into him.

With every hard slam of Sephiroth’s hips, Leon’s open moans rose in lust, his eyes hazing over, sweat-slicked brown hair clinging to his face. His erection rubbed roughly against the hard muscles of Sephiroth’s torso, the friction delicious, the bed’s creaking reaching a frenzied crescendo as Sephiroth pounded him into the mattress.

He gave as good as he got. His hips snapped back against Sephiroth’s with whatever force they could muster, his body seeking more of that slick, hard heat.

The feathers of Sephiroth’s ebony wing grazed against Leon’s bare skin, making him shudder and clench against Sephiroth’s cock. He gave another smirk of victory as Sephiroth hissed.

A hand wrapped around his arousal and started stroking, rough and unyielding, as if punishing Leon for drawing out a reaction. It seemed that if Sephiroth headed towards the edge, he refused not to take Leon down with him.

“Fu— ” Leon’s voice broke, rough from moaning. He could take no more. His back bolted up off the bed as he came, only vaguely aware of Sephiroth spilling into him with a curse after.

Leon fell from consciousness, spiraling down, down, deep into a world of black, his abused body unable to take wakefulness another moment longer.

  
~*~

**Seven Days of Light or Darkness**

Chapter One

The first measures of Mozart’s String Quintet No. 6 registered sluggishly into Leon’s consciousness, its instruments creeping into the room as if a flock of curious birds. The two violas twittered, cautious— they did not know what to make of the stranger lying face down in Sephiroth’s bed. The violins jeered at the violas’ wariness in response, bravely taking flight above the tussled brown mess that was Leon’s hair. The lone cello swayed back in forth between the two, moaning every once in a while with indecisiveness.

Slowly, Leon’s eyes opened. He did not remember falling asleep on his stomach, but the pillow pushed into his face suggested he had. As he lifted his head, things became a bit clearer. The restraints that had held his hands in place were gone, leaving only a pair of red rings that singed like a bad sunburn.

With a hiss, Leon urged his battered wrists to help push his upper body up, plummeting back down with a plop as dizziness overtook him. A few breaths later, he tried again, succeeding in getting himself into a sitting position. It was then he began to notice his body was feeling very, very sore.

Images of the night before ambushed his mind, twisting his face into a scowl. He remembered how his body had responded so damned willingly, his hips bucking back into powerful thrusts as if to demand more abuse. Leon wanted to curse Sephiroth for all of it.

He couldn’t.

(This is what I signed up for— I have no one to blame but myself.)

With a sigh, Leon pulled on his pants and tested his legs against the ground, applying gradual pressure until he was stable enough to stand. The bruised wound of his abdomen winced as he straightened his posture, nearly causing him to lose his balance. His lips twisted into a harsh curse.

With a bit of trouble, he regained a strong footing and began to walk, the birds of Mozart leading him downwards toward the kitchen.

  
-

  
It was strange to see Sephiroth sipping coffee. It was if the act was too simple, too commonplace, too human for the silver-haired warrior to even bother with. And yet, because it was Sephiroth, the plain gesture had transformed into an event befitting an expensive ballroom party. Cream had been beaten into soft mountain peaks, chocolate melted in a saucepan, and a bit of rum stood nearby a bowl full of cherries.

“Would you like some?” Sephiroth offered, his head inclining towards his cup as his eyes grazed Leon’s face. The stem of a cherry twirled idly from under a sugary island of white and drizzled brown.

“Straight black, please.” Leon replied as he eyed the spectacle in Sephiroth’s mug. He wasn’t the type to like ridiculous bullshit in his coffee.

“I thought you might say that,” Sephiroth answered, rising to pour a cup from the pitcher. “Did you sleep well last night?” he asked in a mocking tone, setting Leon’s coffee in front of him.

Leon cradled the mug in his hands and pulled it close, storm-blue eyes gazing at the black liquid with as much defensiveness. (Is the bastard looking for a fight this early in the morning?)

“I asked you a question.”

Still, Leon did not answer.

“You said the name ‘Squall’ a lot in your sleep.”

Well. _That_ caught him off guard.

“What of it?” Leon asked, trying to be casual. Lifting the lid of his cup to his mouth, he forced himself to take a sip, ignoring the fact that the liquid burnt his tongue.

Sephiroth’s gaze did not move from his face, as if gauging every minuscule muscle on it for reaction. “Who is he?”

“That’s a good question.” Leon replied a bit too curtly.

By the smirk on the other’s lips, Leon figured he had just given Sephiroth exactly the response he was waiting for.

“I think you know who he is.” Sephiroth’s green eyes glittered.

“And how is it any of your business?” Leon demanded, his voice growing louder. His eyes chanced meeting Sephiroth’s gaze.

“It is my business,” Sephiroth said simply. His gaze did not waver from the challenge. “I own you.”

Leon’s mug slipped from his hands and fell to the table. He froze, staring at the other man as if he had never in his life met such an audacious creature.

“Did you misunderstand our contract?” Sephiroth mused aloud.

Leon pushed himself up out of his chair. “My body is one thing, but there is no way-”

“-You think I do not own Cloud in every way?” Sephiroth chuckled, stunning Leon into a still silence. “I have seen sides of him he would never dare show you, and not just because I have slept inside of him. If you cannot handle the weight of our agreement, then maybe you should best leave it to him. He is used to it. He even likes it.”

Leon’s eyes narrowed in disgust, clenched fists shaking with the urge to mar the other’s pale, arrogant face. “I am going out.”

“In that condition?” Sephiroth raised a slender brow as he watched Leon turn and meander his way to the door. “Is this the end of our bargain, then?”

Leon stopped mid-step, not bothering to turn. “No.” Setting his foot down, he allowed himself a hidden grimace. “I’ll be back later.”

  
-

  
“Damn,” Leon cursed to the pavement, trying his best to ignore the panging in his abdomen. Lifting his Gunblade, he swung its weight towards his latest adversaries, blasting the small group of black creatures into bursts of dark smoke. “Having this much trouble with Shadows is absolutely ridiculous.”

Digging Gunblade into the ground, Leon shifted to rest on its handle as if it were a cane. Soft pants for air scraped through his lungs.

“Squa~ll,” a familiar female voice echoed through the corridor, “S’that you?”

Leon’s posture straightened, desperate to cover up any signs of injury in preparation for a very nosy teenager- one who could not remember his very express wish to be called ‘Leon’.

Unfortunately, he was not equipped to handle the shock of said teen’s face popping up right next to him.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Yuffie demanded, sending him stumbling backward. “We had a meeting at Merlin’s house today and you didn’t show. Everyone’s worried about you.” She pouted. “You’re supposed to be our leader!”

“…Uhm,” Leon stumbled, his mind flipping through thousands of excuses trying to find one that would fend the young ninja off.

“I’ve been busy,” he came up with lamely.

Thankfully, Yuffie took things her own way. “Goddammit, Leon. You’re going to overwork yourself. You can’t kill every single Heartless alone, y’know?”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Leon made an effort to look as if he had been caught stealing cookies from a jar. “What was the meeting about?”

“The usual,” Yuffie replied, seeming a bit placated by Leon’s puppy face. Idly twirling her large shuriken behind her back, she transferred her weight onto her right leg and looked at the sky. “Someone reported bigger Heartless roaming around. Merlin argued they should be dealt with via magic. Cid called him a hairy old twat and said they should be dealt with using science. You know how that married couple goes.”

Leon chuckled.

“In any case,” Yuffie began, looking at Leon, her expression chiding again, “You really need to tell someone before disappearing like that. We expected better of you.”

“I know,” Leon said, this time with sincerity. Turning to study the crack in the ground Gunblade had made, he let out a small sigh. “Yuffie?”

“Mm?”

“I’m going to be gone for a bit,” Leon admitted. “Tell the others not to worry.”

“Where’re you going? Why?” the teen asked, eyes wide. She leaned her thin shoulders in, her face pressing up against the boundaries of Leon’s personal bubble.

He was beginning to realize there was only one way out of this situation: a bribe.

Leon dredged up his most convincing smile. “It’s a secret.”

“Oh ho ho! I like secrets,” Yuffie answered with a grin.

“Tell you what, then,” Leon began, trying to ignore the horrors of what he was about to say, “as long as you can keep where I am to yourself and don’t come looking for me, I’ll let you be the boss of the Committee for a while.”

“REALLY?” Yuffie exclaimed, before reigning herself in and coughing in embarrassment. “I mean, I don’t know…” Her black lashes narrowed skeptically. “I’d reallly like to know what it is you’re up to.”

“Trust me. I know what I’m getting into,” Leon assured her. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll tell you as soon as this is all over.”

Yuffie’s lips pinched together and shifted to the side of her face as she considered. “Alright. But I have to be the FIRST to know, got it?”

“Got it.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to your super-secret Squall shit, then,” the energetic teen began, pivoting on her right foot and stealing a glance back, “I’ve got a Committee to run!”

Leon resisted the urge to palm his face. “Goodbye, Yuffie.”

As Leon watched the young ninja’s back disappear around the bend, the fraudulent grin on his face grew stale.

It would take time, but the others would eventually forgive him for what he had promised Yuffie. He worried what he had promised Sephiroth would be a different matter.

He knew he would have to tell the others eventually, but it was something he would put off for as long as he could. Once the truth was out, they would try and come for him, no matter how hard he tried to convince them that he could handle himself. They would let themselves get hurt and die for him.

That was the trouble with having good friends.

From the corner of his eye, Leon caught the shadows of the buildings next to him— they rose off of the ground and shifted, evaporating like heated pools of water. Giving a small groan, Leon tugged Gunblade out of the ground, readying his stance to demolish another group of Shadows.

Unfortunately, nothing of the sort came out.

  
-

  
Yuffie had obviously not been paying much attention to the part of Merlin’s Meeting where someone had mentioned ‘bigger Heartless.’ The way she had brushed the topic off was an insult to the fact his enemy’s knee stood a few inches above his head in height.

Beady yellow eyes latched onto their prey from a fidgeting oblique head. Thin, disjointed arms swayed and curled like flapping kites. They shot towards Leon’s head with terrible speed, giving him only seconds to block, knocking him backwards like a leaf in the wind.

Leon cried out as his back hit the pavement, gritting his teeth as his wounded stomach protested with angry throbs. His hands shook as they struggled to regain hold of his weapon, head pounding with its attempts to keep focus. Again the creature’s limbs spun above him, spiraling left and right before lunging straight towards his face…

…and exploding into a cloud of black dust.

Confused, Leon twisted his head to find the cause of his enemy’s demise. Not a second later, he found himself hoisted up and over the leather-clad shoulders of a certain silver-haired bastard.

Growling, Leon pushed his hands against Sephiroth’s chest in an attempt to shove him off.

Sephiroth only tightened his grip around Leon’s rear in response. “Your idiotic antics are failing to impress me, Squall.”

Leon hissed, battered limbs unyielding in their efforts to try and escape. “How long have you been sitting there stalking me?”

“Long enough,” Sephiroth answered. “Did you think you would be of any use to me dead?”

“I could have handled myself.” Leon’s face tightened into a stubborn frown.

“No you could not have. Not in your condition. You know that.” Sephiroth sneered. “You are just a silly masochist with a lion’s pride.”

“And what does that make you?” Leon scowled.

Green eyes latched onto his— those thin feral cat’s eyes, dangerous and flickering. “A sadist who is very selfish with his possessions.”

Using the arm unburdened by a still-struggling Leon, Sephiroth unlocked the door to his home and kicked it open with the heel of his leather boot. With a few more steps, he unceremoniously threw Leon onto his couch, wandering off to his pantry.

Leon’s attention turned to the open door in thought.

“If you make a move from that couch, I will not think twice about beheading you,” Sephiroth said, seemingly having sprouted eyes in the back of his head. “It would be wise not to become more trouble than your inconsequential worth.”

“I wasn’t going to leave,” Leon muttered. (Although the thought was nice.) With a sigh, Leon surrendered himself to circumstance and shifted to face the back of the couch. The weariness of his beaten body caught up to him, screaming, furious from neglect.

As if to answer his prayers, a vial of Elixir appeared between his curled stomach and the suede cushion in front of him.

“I trust you can open the bottle yourself.” Sephiroth threw a blanket in Leon’s astonished face. Striding past the couch, he shut the front door. “After that, you are to get some rest.”

Taking the vial in his hands, Leon twisted the cap off and brought the liquid to his lips. Relief was instant, flooding his body like warm butter, relaxing his muscles and numbing his wounds.

“…Thank you.” Leon finally managed, looking up at Sephiroth’s back.

Sephiroth did not bother to turn, his attention focused on his bookshelf. “Do not thank me. I did not do anything for your sake.” A gloved finger perused the backs of each book, before picking one from the center. “Instead, apologize for being so pitiful.”

“I am sorry.”

“I do not appreciate liars.”

Leon bit his tongue, though he did not welcome the insult. Selfish motives or not, he had to admit Sephiroth had saved his life. He felt he had to give something to show his gratitude. With a bit of hesitance, Leon began with the only thing he could think to offer.

“…You want to know why I don’t go by the name Squall anymore.”

Sephiroth stilled for a moment. Abandoning his chosen read on an end table, he settled into the sofa diagonal from Leon and straightened, inclining to face him. “Go on.”

Setting the now empty Elixir on the coffee table beside him, Leon paused as he searched for where to start. “…I was 16 when the Heartless overran our world,” he finally told the other. “…I was an orphan, a loner, a different man than the one I am now…”

Leon found it easier to look at the couch as he talked. There was something very unnerving about the intense way Sephiroth stared at him. “The only thing I cared about was getting on the damn Gummi Ship out. I kept on telling myself there was nothing I could do—”

“—There wasn’t.” Sephiroth's voice held a degree of certainty that hardened Leon into stone.

“Well that’s the difference between you and me, isn’t it?” Leon spat.

“Perhaps,” Sephiroth answered, either ignorant of his rage or otherwise unaffected by it. “There was more to your story, wasn’t there?”

“Forget it.” Leon snarled, curling under his blanket. “I shouldn’t have wasted my time. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand more than you realize,” Sephiroth said, his tone suddenly odd.

“No,” Leon brushed off the oddness, brushed Sephiroth himself off with a hand, “I think that’s just your arrogance talking.”

Leon soon found his wrists pinned painfully behind his shoulders, chest buried against the back of the couch. Pointed canines bit into the arch of his neck, nipping up to his ear. “Do not pretend to know me,” Sephiroth warned.

A small gasp escaped Leon’s lips, pulse slowly heating along with his revulsion. “I only judge based on what I see,” he hissed.

“Then you would do best to remember what you see isn’t necessarily the whole picture.”

Leon opened his mouth to argue, but soon found his lips fast drowned in the other man’s hunger, Sephiroth’s tongue slipping in to meet his.

Feeling daring, Leon’s teeth bit down on that tongue, hard enough to make Sephiroth pull back with an angry snarl.

“I thought you told me to get some rest,” Leon accused.

A drop of blood spilled between Sephiroth’s scowling lips. He studied Leon with hardened eyes.

Leon couldn’t help but smirk at the sight. Getting a reaction out of the self-important bastard was quickly becoming a high to him.

“You only have seven days,” Sephiroth said, his tone flat. With a sharp twist of Leon’s bound arms, he released him. “I started counting yesterday, so— were I you— I would note that the second day is already halfway over.”

Without another word, Sephiroth brushed past his view, the book from the end table already nestled in his gloved hand.

Leon moved to stare at the man’s back for a moment, his expression no longer smug. Quietly, he laid himself back down and pulled the blanket tight against his frame.

His eyes closed unavailingly. He knew sleep wouldn’t come.

  
-

  
When Yuffie returned to Merlin’s, the old wizard and Cid had finally stopped lunging at each other’s throats. Instead, both men faced pointedly away from one another, looking like they had each bitten something sour. Merlin gripped his pipe with white knuckles as Cid sucked on his cigarette as if it were a straw.

“I thought you both quit those things,” Yuffie miffed, hands on her hips. She received two grunts in response. With a sigh, she turned her attention to the corner.

Tifa was wrapping one of Cloud’s wrists in a bandage, using a piece of hard cardboard as a splint. “That should do until Aeris gets here,” she said when she finished.

Cloud did not turn to look at her.

“Cloud…” Tifa began, “If only you hadn’t been so reckless out there today…” She shook her head and bit back her admonition, “Never mind. Just… please… don’t push yourself.”

Cloud didn’t answer her.

Yuffie made her way over, oblivious as usual to the tension filling the air. “Jeez. What’d you get into this time, Cloud?” Instead of looking at him, Yuffie glanced at Tifa. Cloud hadn’t been speaking much lately. “Let me guess: Potions are going so fast they’re out of stock. And don’t tell me Aeris is stuck playing nurse all night again.”

“The people here need her to heal them,” Tifa answered, offering a weak smile. “We can’t be selfish with her or our healing items, Yuffie. The townspeople can’t defend themselves like we can.”

“I know, I know,” Yuffie breathed, lips fixing into a pout. Her eyes roamed over Cloud’s wrist. “But the way things have been going lately, who is going to save us? I mean, I ran into one of those Heartless we heard about about an hour ago. Cid and Merlin weren’t kidding. Those things are _huge_.”

“Cloud and I just got through fighting one,” Tifa admitted, her small smile waning as she turned to the injured blond. “Or really, I found him like this, with his sword tossed aside… and finished the fight for him.”

Yuffie frowned.

“Wouldn’t’ve happened if there were more Claymores around,” Cid muttered, flicking the butt of his cigarette into the trash.

“That, most indeed, would have proved agreeable,” Merlin began, his tone steeped with sarcasm, “Ah, provided your… uh, Claymowatchamacallits… had any significant effect on the beings. Yes, yes, quite a shame.”

Yuffie groaned in exasperation. “Both of you. Shut it.”

“’Scuse me?” Cid snarled at her, “Whose goddamn carcass decided YOUR teeny, shit-smeared ass was the fuckin’ boss ‘round here?”

“Squall.”

Everyone grew quiet and stared at her. She had even managed to capture Cloud’s attention.

“Don’t you all look at me like that,” Yuffie huffed. “He really did make me boss! He said I could run the Committee! He said I could do it as long as I kept his-” she cut herself off, eyes growing wide, blood filling her cheeks, “Uh-oh…”

“His what, Yuffie?” Cloud asked, his voice an eery quiet.

Yuffie’s round face winced as if the words coming out of her mouth pained her. “His… secret?”

All at once, everyone was demanding answers from her. Her ears couldn’t pick out the difference between one voice and another’s. The exception to this was Cid, as his voice was the loudest, but he wasn’t asking her anything. Instead, he was screaming pointless obscenities at the ceiling, his fist crunching an unopened carton of cigarettes.

“ALL OF YOU, QUIET,” Yuffie yelled finally.

Everyone settled down immediately, with the exclusion of Cid, again. The engineer contented himself to drop one last, long F-bomb as soon as he looked at his hand and realized he’d just wasted an entire pack of smokes. He immediately launched the crumpled box at Yuffie’s head.

It hit her right between the eyes.

Yuffie stared, cross-eyed, as the box fell from her face to the ground with a pathetic thwack.

Yuffie cleared her throat. Her cheeks reddened. “So, um, yeah… I’ve seen Squall.”

“Where?” Cloud asked, getting to his feet.

Tifa raised a cautious hand and set it on his arm. Her mouth opened to plea with him, but he interrupted her.

“ _Where?_ ” Cloud asked again.

Yuffie’s voice came out in a squeak, “Dark Depths…?”

Without another word, Cloud disappeared out the door.

Tifa ran after him, but stopped as soon as she found herself outside. Her head whipped around madly, brown eyes searching left and right.

“Again?” Tifa whispered as she stood there, her fist clenching tight.

Cloud had already gone.

  
-

  
Leon lay unmoving from his spot on the couch, watching in secrecy as page by page slipped through Sephiroth’s gloved fingers. It was as if each sheet of turning paper marked a grain of fallen sand in an hourglass. An hourglass he could not afford to have run empty.

Still, what could he do? The question sounded in his head again and again, a skipping record. He had no answer.

And so, he continued to stare.

(The way things are now, you aren’t going to win this bet,) he told himself. He answered himself with an exasperated (I know, I know…) He didn’t appreciate his own attitude. (Well if you just sit there doing nothing…) (I KNOW, ALRIGHT?)

“I’m going to go for a walk,” Leon decided, springing from the couch and grabbing his Gunblade.

“I will allow it,” Sephiroth replied casually, flipping another page. “But do not expect me to make another appearance on your behalf should anything go wrong.”

“I don’t,” Leon agreed curtly, slamming the door on his way out.

  
-

  
Leon had not walked very far when his eyes caught hold of a familiar set of blond spikes. Ducking behind the bend, he sucked in his breath in a desperate attempt not to be seen. The familiar clank of Soldiers’ feet sounded, but he knew they would be no problem for the other warrior to handle.

He began to walk back from where he had come, but then he heard it- the slightest intake of breath followed by a curse. Without thought, he turned, rushing to his friend’s aid.

Cloud was fending the beasts off with bare arms as they swarmed on him from overhead. In the midst of black dust, Leon’s eyes caught the flap of a white bandage, unraveling from the blond’s wrist.

“Reckless idiot,” Leon breathed as he brandished his Gunblade. Sweeping around Cloud in a counter-clockwise circle, his sword split through the armored black bodies of his remaining enemies.

As the Soldiers’ hearts rose free into the sky, he found Cloud motionless. Deep blue eyes widened for an infinitesimal moment. In that moment, Leon froze as well.

Putting away his weapon, Leon finally straightened and sighed. “Just what do you think you’re doing out here? Injured. Without your sword…”

Cloud stared back at him, expression blank. “Well, I don’t know,” he answered simply, “What are you doing here?”   
  
Realization hit Leon like a block of ice forced down his throat: _Yuffie._

Cloud continued to search him for an explanation.

Leon’s eyes hovered over Cloud’s shoulder rather than facing him. “I’ve found a lead on why there might be bigger Heartless around here.”

Cloud made a noise resembling a snort. “Then why didn’t you come and tell us about it?”

Leon searched himself, racking his brain for ideas. Then he found it, with some regret— the only words he knew would keep Cloud from asking more.

Leon prayed his voice didn’t waver, “Because the answer may have something to do with my past.”

“Oh.” A pang hit within those blue eyes, the kind of pain that came with not being trusted. It was if Leon’s words had set up an invisible wall between them, tangible and cold.

It hurt, but it was necessary. Cloud was much safer behind that wall.

“You know, Leon… say something next time.”

“I know. I’m not usually like that,” Leon admitted, “I just got carried away.”

Cloud nodded. “Just…” The edge of his lips pulled back slightly over his teeth as his face shadowed over. “…Sephiroth lives around here.”

“I’ll tell you if I see him.” The taste of so many lies were foreign to Leon’s mouth, bitter and unwelcome as his eyes fixed to the ground. He couldn’t bring himself to meet the wounded gaze now scrutinizing his expression.

“Alright,” Cloud sighed, offering a trusting half-smile Leon knew he hadn’t deserved, “but be careful.”

“You too, Cloud.” Leon returned the smile, though his was plastic. The sound of the others calling Cloud’s name echoed down the rocky corridors. The blond turned on his feet and walked toward the noise, turning his head back one last time before disappearing completely.

Cloud would be the hardest out of all of them to tell the truth.

Leon would do it as soon as he had come to terms with it himself.

  
-

  
Sephiroth was no longer reading when Leon came back into the house. He noticed the absence as an almost physical thing as he set his Gunblade against the couch. The book the other man had been perusing sat quietly in its place on the shelf, a red bookmark holding Sephiroth’s place. It was a collection of philosophical debates.

Out of pure curiosity, Leon took the book and opened to the page the man had marked, reading a few lines:

_Does darkness exist? We can use a prism to break white light into many colors, to study its various wavelengths, and yet, we cannot measure darkness. How do we determine how dark a certain space is? We measure the amount of light present. A simple ray of light can break into a world of darkness and illuminate it. Therefore, darkness does not exist; it is simply the absence of light._

Leon scoffed a bit as he put the book back. (Tell that to someone who’s been attacked by a Heartless.)

Climbing the stairs, he turned into Sephiroth’s room. The man was asleep on his side, covers tucked under a bare arm. His moonlit silver hair had spilled over his naked chest, black wing tucked in close to his back. His face held a pure serenity Leon thought the man could never possess while awake.

The bastard looked almost angelic. _Almost._

Leon couldn’t help but stare at the man’s pale neck. He swore if he looked hard enough, he could see the man’s pulse thrumming through it in steady beats. An idea struck him.

(You could end it now.) The hilt of Masamune stuck out from underneath Sephiroth’s pillow. (You could slit his throat and it would all be over. You would be free. Cloud would be free.)

His hands shook. He took a deep breath. His hand went to reach…

Sephiroth’s eyelids flinched as though troubled, his lips moving in muttered slurs. Leon didn’t dare move another inch. Instead, he watched the other man, breath hitched.

“So, you’ve …fallen into the darkness as well,” Sephiroth finally whispered.

Leon waited for more. A few minutes later, he found he could no longer hold his breath and exhaled.

Sephiroth’s silver lashes snapped open, “ _Traitor._ ”

Leon found himself hoisted up in the air by his collar, Masamune poised under his chin. Sephiroth’s eyes were unfocused, wild, his pupils thin, terrible slits.

The color drained from Leon’s face. (This is it, Leon. You’re going to die.)

Sephiroth’s mind began to register. His grip relaxed only slightly, expression still furious. Dropping his sword to the ground beside the bed, Sephiroth used the fist curled in Leon’s shirt to throw him towards the door. “ _Get out._ ”

Leon had no problems obeying.

  
-

  
The couch was becoming very familiar to Leon. Covering himself with the blanket from earlier, he rested his head on the arm of the couch, thankful it was as soft as any pillow.

(Looks like Sephiroth has secrets of his own.) He smirked to himself. In his head, he replayed how the other had needled him for information that morning, how he had stalked him to learn his name, how angry he had been when realizing Leon had caught a side of him the bastard had never meant to show. (It’s a start,) he recognized with overwhelming relief.

It was dangerous, he knew, this pride in flirting with the man’s unguarded emotions…

_“You only have seven days.”_

…but the real danger was in doing nothing.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_Whispers of light grazed Leon’s closed eyelids, filling his skin with feverish warmth, both odd and yet familiar. Relief flooded him. Only a moment ago he had thought himself stranded in the darkness, his body lying in a void neither time or place could touch. Now that he had some gravity to hold on to, he pulled to the light like a planet orbiting a star._

_As he neared, the warmth grew until it became tangible. Soft skin, no, lips pressed tentatively against his mouth, growing hungry, insistent. Fingers cradled in Leon’s shirt as if he were the only thing keeping them steady. He knew this taste from somewhere before, but where? He couldn’t place it. All that he remembered was that he liked it, and when the tip of a tongue pushed against his teeth, he couldn't find the will to deny it._

_His eyes opened to meet the owner of a fragile breath that wasn't his own, finding feathery blond spikes resting on lightly freckled skin._

_Cloud?!_

_Leon’s mouth slacked in a gasp, which the other took as encouragement. A small noise escaped Leon’s throat, disbelief echoing through his brain… and then serene silence._

_He had found something he didn’t know he had missed. He wanted this. He wanted Cloud. Friendship had grown into love when he hadn’t been looking, and now it flowed through him like a broken dam, tongue and lips moving together to sculpt something perfect. He closed his eyes again and groaned._

_A hand left Leon’s shirt to rest on his neck. He didn’t think twice about it. It was only when he noticed the wisp of light had left and the room had gotten cold again that he began to think something strange. The mouth against his grew more brutal than passionate, teeth tugging at his bottom lip in a way that made him wince. The hand around his neck held him, heavy and firm, clenching until there wasn't any air to gasp._

_His eyes opened, but he could see nothing. He imagined if he could, he would see silver instead of blond. A familiar cat-like grin spread against the line of his jaw, sending low chuckles straight to his ears— it was a noise that faded away with his consciousness, the lack of oxygen to his brain making him feel oddly giddy. His fingers scratched weakly at the grip around his neck, losing their purpose at an alarming rate, slipping from his captive’s arm and falling away into the nothing once again._

_But before Leon could lose himself to the darkness completely, Sephiroth left him a gift:_

_A mock lover’s kiss that burned like a brand._

  
-

  
Leon woke in the morning and found himself irritated. Irritated and quite sure Sephiroth was to blame for all his irritation.

First of all, though last night's dreams had already dissipated into fog in his head, he remembered that Sephiroth had done …something… and that that _something_ was for _some reason_ bugging him to no end. Second of all, he could vaguely recall the dream was sexual in some sense. And violent. But of course, that was a given— everything involving Sephiroth had sex and violence in it _somewhere_.

Leon also found himself irritated in a different way. Namely, he had a raging boner. Nature was to blame for the uncomfortable weight between his legs, he knew, and yet it contented him more to fault Sephiroth instead. He had infiltrated Leon’s dreams, after all. (That _bastard_.)

Undoing the tedious buckles and zippers of his pants, he pushed them off his hips for some relief and peeked under the blanket to examine the situation. His penis faced him directly.

_As much as he disgusts you, you want him,_ it seemed to say to him, _in fact, your shame is just making me harder._

Leon scoffed at the tower of flushed skin, pointedly trying to ignore the way his pulse throbbed through it.

_You should go upstairs and have him do something about me,_ the firm mass of flesh twitched. _He’s not bad on the eyes, and you know for a fact he’d take good care of us._

Leon licked his hand and grabbed a hold of his base, his expression even more annoyed. (No. _I’m_ taking care of us. Here and now.)

_Really? What are you going to clean me up with when I explode? This couch is suede, you know. And we’re right under the stairs. This house is a small hovel carved into rock, and let’s face it— you can get kind of loud… You’ll probably end up waking him anyways._

Leon grumbled. (I’ll go use the bathroom.)

_Sure. Remember where the only toilet in this place is? It’s right next to Sephiroth’s room. Yeah. You can’t win._

Leon’s hand let go of his erection and flew into his hair, gripping hard as he exhaled slowly. (Oh my gods, please tell me I am not having a conversation with my dick.)

Maybe it was all the blood migrating from the head above his neck to the head down below it, but using Sephiroth for sex was beginning to sound like a good idea. (He started it,) Leon began rationalizing to himself, (why should he get away with it?)

(In fact,) he remembered the delightful interrogation Sephiroth had prepared for him yesterday morning, (if I play my cards right, maybe I can needle him for information about _his_ past.)

Removing his top and grabbing his belts from the floor, Leon set course for Sephiroth’s room, telling himself this was about _vengeance_ and _nothing else_.

  
-

  
Leon thanked Hyne the position of Sephiroth’s wrists made it easy to tie them together without disturbing the man too much. As he glanced at the Masamune resting underneath the elder warrior’s pillow, the cost of making any wrong moves pressed onto his mind. For this reason, he decided it best to let Sephiroth stay sleeping on his side for now.

Pulling back the covers, it didn't surprise Leon to find Sephiroth slept naked. To Leon’s disdain, his groin ached in appreciation of that fact. He grimaced at himself.

(This is fucking _crazy_.) He stopped himself before he could re-evaluate the situation further. (No. You put yourself here, Leon, and for the next four days, you are going to see it through. If nothing else, you are going to be _the best_ damned fuck toy Sephiroth has  _ever_ had.) A few choice images popped in his head at the thought, leaving Leon frowning harder at how his current state didn’t unwelcome the idea. He sighed. (Let’s get this over with.)

Leon crawled up from the foot of the bed, positioning himself sideways so his head hovered opposite Sephiroth’s length. It was a bit awkward lying on his arm, but it would have to do. To make things easier, his free hand slid up and down his own lower stomach, fingers teasing enough to take his mind off of the discomfort.

Opening his mouth, Leon let his hot breath run over the other man’s base. He found he liked the way the skin above it spasmed in response. He chuckled softly, whether because of nerves or disbelief with himself, he could no longer tell. His brain was shutting down and desire was pushing through.

Bringing his lips closer, he kissed the inside of the other man’s pale thighs. Tiny trembles ran up from Sephiroth’s knees, rewarding Leon with the knowledge there was a weak spot in the near-flawless man. As he licked and grazed his teeth experimentally over the sensitive muscles, Sephiroth started to harden and grow. Small grunts mumbled under a quickened breath grazed Leon's ears, making his ego smirk.

The vindictive, mischievous side of him had finally awakened.

As his tongue slid down to caress Sephiroth’s balls, Leon pushed his pants off and began to tighten his hand at the base of his own shaft. A noise of his own escaped his lips as he began to work himself up and down.

“Leon…?” the other man slurred in hazy confusion. In answer, Leon’s left hand grabbed onto Sephiroth’s hip for support and pulled himself closer, pressing his lips against the elder warrior’s stiffening length. Sephiroth hissed in his breath. The sound that followed was a sort of victory hymn to Leon— he had pegged Sephiroth as the type who never let slip how turned on he was.

Half-slit green eyes opened blearily to stare at Leon, and then at the restraints. A flash of anger stiffened Sephiroth’s gaze before giving way to a glimmer of amusement. It wasn’t clear which look meant more danger.

Leon tried to push the thought out of his mind. He couldn't afford for courage to leave him now.

Relief came easier as Sephiroth rolled lazily onto his back, propping his pillows up against the headboard with his shoulders, giving him leverage to watch. The Masamune clattered down the crack behind the mattress, as if reassuring Leon’s safety.

Repositioning himself onto his knees, Leon began to use his whole fist to stroke himself, his tongue pressing against the back of Sephiroth’s length and running up to his tip. He smirked as Sephiroth purred, the vibration low in his chest.

Bound hands pushed the sable hair that had fallen in Leon’s face out of his eyes. Long fingers entangled themselves behind Leon’s ears and pulled him closer.

Obeying the unvoiced command, Leon neared and closed his mouth over the other’s flushed head. Slowly, he began to push and pull Sephiroth’s cock deeper and deeper towards his throat.

Leon’s original intention never left him. Or _had it_? It loomed somewhere vague in his consciousness, reminding him softly that his plan was to _eventually_ pull away.

Leon knew this, and yet several things made stopping difficult— the feel of Sephiroth’s heat in his mouth, the smell of lust between them in the air, the friction of his hand pumping against his own flesh… again and again he found his lips vibrating with deep moans. He teetered near the edge of madness. It didn’t help that any shame had long left him, mind possessed by wrenching the tiniest of unguarded reactions from the cold-hearted beast beneath him.

It was the way Sephiroth’s hips were beginning to lift up and press back into the mattress that finally instilled urgency back into him.

Leon’s lips left Sephiroth’s cock as his head sprang back with a groan. He smirked at the other with an open mouth, panting, his flushed face both cruel and triumphant.

Sephiroth remained hard.

“What kind of game do you think you are playing?” Sephiroth growled, awake now.

Leon wanted to laugh at the way the man resembled a bristling tiger. He felt invincible, high above on a platform even Sephiroth couldn't touch. He decided to push his luck. In the same nonchalant tone Sephiroth had used the morning before, Leon began his own line of questioning. “So… Who did you lose to the darkness?”

The tiger’s jade eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t concern you.”

“It concerns me as much as my being Squall concerns you.” Leon’s hazy grin widened. His fingers tiptoed their way up Sephiroth’s knees, remembering the weakness he discovered earlier.

Leon didn’t expect the other warrior to chuckle. The sound made his blood freeze solid.

“You should know by now not to underestimate me.” To Leon’s horror, the leather belts around the other man’s wrists tore apart as if they were nothing more than masking tape.

Leon backed away from the bed as quickly as his exhausted body could, eyes searching for anything he could use as a weapon to defend himself. Finally, they fell on a lamp. Dashing towards the fixture, he stumbled and missed, immediately changing his focus to _just getting out_.

He didn’t make it very far. His legs gave out, sending him falling on all fours, fingers digging into the rug covering the bedroom’s wooden floor.

Masumune was at his neck at an instant, Sephiroth pressing his bare weight against his back. “You have three choices,” Sephiroth whispered lowly in his ear, nipping at it hard. “We fuck. You leave this room. You die. Choose wisely.”

Leon was terrified. Leon was still _hard._

“Why even give me the choice to leave?” he asked, curious. 

“I find no amusement in completely unwilling prey,” Sephiroth answered.

“That seems too kind of you,” Leon scoffed, his breath ragged with lust and fear. Sephiroth's chest was hot against him, making him shudder.

“Do not pretend to know me,” Sephiroth said, not for the first time. “Make your choice.” He nipped at Leon’s ear again. “You could leave, which works out for _you_. You could die, which works out for _me_. Or…” Sephiroth growled with amusement, lowering his hips and rocking his cock between the globes of Leon’s ass. “I could fuck you as rough as you’ve been wanting, which works out for us both.”

“As rough as…” Leon's voice slurred, “How do you know what I…?” His back arched unconsciously, pushing back against the heft of Sephiroth’s cock. His body had already made its decision.

“You have to say it,” Sephiroth said, not in the mood for games. The rocking of his hips quickened in pace and Leon could not help a moan.

Leon hid his mouth against his shoulder, mumbling quietly in his shame, “Fuck me.”

“No.” Sephiroth tossed the Masamune to the side and grabbed a fistful of Leon’s hair, yanking back until Leon’s mouth was free. “You have to say it loud enough for me to hear it. You have to _mean_ it.”

_“Fuck me.”_

Sephiroth entered him in one swift motion, never breaking the stride of his hips.

The carpet burned against Leon’s hands and knees as Sephiroth picked up his pace and ground him into the floor. He struck like a hot iron, again and again, causing sparks of lightning in Leon's lower stomach, making him tremble to his core.

Leon’s body had never been so stretched open, so pierced, so thoroughly _fucked_. 

It was hell. It was _heaven._

The pain and pleasure melded together until there was nothing but _Sephiroth_ and the sound of his own loud cries.

  
-

 

_“Because the answer may have something to do with my past.”_

Cloud hadn’t slept well last night. He hadn’t been sleeping well for the past few nights, actually. Ever since Leon disappeared three days ago without a word, his worry for his friend’s well-being had kept him wide awake. Now that he had seen Leon again, his worries had grown quite different. Still, the results remained the same.

He had thought he and Leon were close, but now the notion seemed like a one-sided feeling. He’d never bothered to ask Leon about his past, and he’d never shared his own because he couldn’t remember. In the end, what did they even know about each other? The question kept pecking at his mind like a chocobo hunting for the right type of grass.

“You sure you don’t want help with those waffles?” Yuffie asked him, amused at his attempts at eating with a splint in his wrist.

“Very sure,” Cloud answered flatly. The fork fit awkwardly in his fingers, shaking every once in a while and going in directions he never intended it to. It was still less humiliating than having Yuffie feed him as if he were a baby. Looking at the ninja’s laughing expression, an idea struck him, “but maybe there is something else you can help me with.”

“Hm?” Yuffie questioned, sticking a powdered cherry in her mouth. A second later, she pulled out a knotted stem and swallowed. “Like what?”

Yuffie came from the same world Leon did, right? That’s how she knew his real name. Maybe this was cheating, Cloud frowned inwardly, but still… “What was Leon like before your homeworld was taken over?”

“Asking questions about Squall, huh~?” Yuffie teased, looming over his plate with a stupid grin plastered on her face.

“Forget it,” Cloud said quickly. He went back to staring at the half-eaten waffle on his plate. His fork stabbed at a piece— it fell right back into his plate, spitting syrup everywhere. Cloud pretended nothing happened.

“Well,” Yuffie huffed, a little disappointed, “I couldn’t tell you much anyways. I didn’t talk to Squall a lot before I met up with him in Traverse Town. I doubt he wanted to talk to anyone then, period,” her lips swished to favor one cheek, “He was sort of an… well, an ice queen. Whatever made him change his name… it changed him.”

The thought of Leon being an ice queen was an amusing one, but Cloud could sort of see it being true. So Yuffie, the one who knew Leon longest, didn’t know much either, huh? He found himself strangely relieved.

Yuffie raised a brow, “So why did you want to know?” Mischief returned to the ninja’s black eyes.

Cloud groaned, “Look, it’s not like that. Leon said the bigger heartless might have something to do with his past.”

“Oh,” Yuffie said simply, looking suddenly, perhaps inappropriately, bored. She took a sip out of her cup of orange juice before shrugging. “Well why don’t you go ask him?”

Cloud looked down at his plate again, picking at his waffle sloppily. He managed to get a piece in his mouth, only to find out his food had gotten cold after struggling with it for so long. He ate it anyways and didn’t complain. The handle of his fork got caught up in his bandages, his fingers unsuccessfully maneuvering to dig it out, sending the silver utensil clattering to the ground.

Cloud, again, pretended nothing happened.

“Well?” Yuffie asked again, taking another sip of her juice.

With nothing around him to look distracted with, Cloud finally answered, “I don’t think he trusts me.”

Orange juice came out of Yuffie’s nose.

Cloud immediately got up and pushed himself from the table, “What the hell, Yuffie?”

Yuffie scrambled for a napkin, holding her nose as she coughed, “You’re so fucking- _hack_ -oblivious, Cloud!”

“What?” Cloud’s eyebrows curled upwards as if asking his forehead whether anything Yuffie had just said made sense.

“Haven’t you- _cough_ -noticed, idiot?” Yuffie replied, face having turned red, “Hell, everyone here- _ahem_ -has liked you at some point or another.”

Cloud turned his confused expression to Cid, who was still sleeping like a rock in his chair, a blueprint covering his face.

“No, not _him_ ,” Yuffie answered as if it should have been as plain as a dog bite on the ass. Her breathing had gotten a bit better now. Instead of hacking up her lungs, she was clearing her throat, sounding much like a growling monkey. “- _Hrrm_ \- Thanks for saving me from choking to death, hero.”

Cloud was about to make a snide comment along the lines of ‘It was just orange juice,’ when the door opened. Immediately, his spirits sank lower. He did not want to see either of the two ladies that walked in. At least, not right now.

“We leave you two alone for one morning, and you can’t even eat breakfast without making a mess,” Aeris teased. Her dress without a wrinkle, eyes without any bags, she didn’t look at all as if she had been healing others for three days straight. She always seemed to hide those things well.

Cloud wished he knew her secret. If he did, he could have avoided all this.

Tifa followed behind the flower girl, stopping in her tracks as she saw the syrup stains in the tablecloth and Cloud’s dirty fork lying on the floor. Sighing, she picked up some napkins and began to clean up. “Well, what else could we have expected?” she smiled a bit.

Cloud was silent.

“You sure it’s okay to be here, Aeris?” Yuffie asked, frowning. “I mean, it’s not that we don’t miss you. It’s just that reports of the Heartless have been getting worse since they called you into the clinic. I didn’t even know how bad it really was until I got attacked yesterday.”

“It’s okay,” Aeris answered, nodding, “I’m only here for a little while, after all.”

Cloud knew why.

If he had to compare them to something, Tifa and Aeris were much like a pair of mothers. They were the two who had found him, sleeping in Ravine Trail under a demon-like wing, wounded and worn after his first fight with Sephiroth. Since then, they treated him as if they’d adopted a troubled child. If one mother had a problem with him, they always went and complained to the other mother. If neither mother could make him crack, then they would come and corner him together.

Cloud was secretly very frightened of them together.

“Let’s see about that wrist, Cloud,” Aeris began, walking over with her hands folded behind her back. Bowing from her waist, her head became level with his splint, inspecting it.

Cloud immediately flinched, his hand pulling away, “I’m fine— I can heal quick on my own. You should be with the others that can’t.”

Tifa finished wiping up what she could and threw the napkins in the trash. “Not everyone can heal like you, but not everyone can fight like you either, Cloud.” With practiced care, she piled up all the dirty dishes. “And with Leon gone, we need everyone we can get.”

Aeris nodded in agreement. Cloud hated that nod. Reluctantly, he surrendered his wrist.

“Cloud said something interesting today,” Yuffie said suddenly.

“Oh?” Aeris questioned in a tone all too familiar to him. She carefully undid his splint and rested her fingers on his skin. Cure’s warmth worked its way into the blonde’s bones, but somehow pain was beginning to throb inside of his head. “ _Yuffie_ ,” he warned.

“What?” Yuffie placed her fists on her hips, “As Committee Leader, I think everyone has the right to know what’s going on with the Heartless.”

Cloud wanted to scoff. Sure, _now_ she cared about the Heartless.

“Well, what’s going on, Cloud?” Aeris asked, letting go of his wrist. Tifa stopped herself in the middle of folding up the tablecloth.

Finally, the real reason Aeris was there. It always came down to that question, didn’t it?

Green eyes and mahogany looked at him expectantly.

Cloud coughed a bit. “Well, Leon thinks the bigger Heartless have something to do with his past. That’s why he doesn’t want us bothering him.” He prayed his nonchalant tone worked.

No one in the room seemed to be buying it. In fact, he was quite sure the smile on Aeris’ face spread a little wider.

Tifa went back to folding the tablecloth, feigning her own indifference. The act was transparent to Cloud only because he had come to know her so well. “Well, why don’t you go ask him?” she asked carefully.

Yuffie snickered. “He doesn’t think Leon trusts him.”

“Really?” Aeris asked, using the same upward inflection as before. It was a nuance that made Cloud almost believe there was a different Aeris right beside him, giggling and whispering in his ear, ‘I’m getting pretty close, so you should just cough up whatever you’re hiding now.’

Cloud’s eyes darted to the door. If the tag-team between Tifa and Aeris had been a nightmare, he now knew things could be much worse— if Tifa and Aeris were his mothers, then Yuffie was fast becoming his tattletale little sister. He felt like a wild animal backed into a cage, betrayed by everyone in the room, even Cid— after all, the engineer wasn’t awake to save him, was he?

As if answering the complaint in Cloud’s head, the door swung open and Archimedes sailed in, landing on top of Cid’s blueprint and rousing the startled man. In the confusion caused by Cid flailing and cursing at the owl, Cloud attempted to flee, knocking into Merlin in his escape.

“MERLIN, STOP HIM!” the three girls cried in unison.

Merlin adjusted his glasses. Immediately after, Cloud found himself seized by magic, unable to take another step.

“Say, where do you believe you are going, my boy?” Merlin asked. “Now that we are all present, the meeting can begin.” The old wizard looked over to Cid, the wrinkles in his face immediately tripling and glowing red. “What’s going on here?”

“Your go’damn bird tried to fuckin’ suffocate me in my sleep!” Cid yelled, still swinging his fists.

“How was I to know your face was under that thing?” Archimedes retorted, indignant, dodging punches.

Cloud tried again to move, but Merlin’s magic held strong. As if sensing what he was thinking, Yuffie pulled his frozen form into the room as Aeris shut the door behind him and locked it. Tifa looked at him in apology.

Any way he looked at it, Cloud was trapped.

  
-

  
“Cloud, you have to understand, we’ve been worried about you.” Tifa sat across from him, her hands reaching out to cradle his.

“I know,” Cloud replied, eyes ever avoidant, “but you shouldn’t-”

“-For the last time, _of course_ we should,” Tifa answered, giving him a swift kick under the table. “You’re our friend. You would do the same for us.”

The warmth on Cloud's fingers combined with the smarting of his knee, providing an odd comfort— they were both honestly Tifa. It tempted him to be honest as well.

Cid nodded from his spot in the corner, mulling over his blueprint. “You'd do best to listen to her.”

“I agree,” Aeris added. “After all, you're worried about Leon because you love him. Isn't that right?”

Cloud suddenly felt like his chest was being played like a piano.

“Isn’t that a bit too bold?” Tifa whispered to Aeris with a side glance.

“No, it’s the truth,” Aeris answered out loud.  
  
Cloud continued to be quiet. He was losing the will to fight his two mothers. If Tifa was the lovable Watson, Aeris was her Sherlock. The flower girl had simply walked into the room, picked up a few clues, and then put them together in an impossible way, solving the mystery in Cloud's head.

And she was right. The word 'love' fit too well.

Tifa's fingers curled around his tighter. Cloud smiled sadly, conceding defeat. Everyone silenced to hear him speak.

"I ran into Sephiroth four days ago," he admitted.

Tifa tensed around him protectively. A quiet fear passed between each person in the room.

"Nothing... physical happened. We didn’t fight. I didn’t give into…" he reddened and coughed, briefly looking away. "I just didn't want to be alone, so I went to see Leon."

Cloud paused for a moment, putting the words together in his head. "I didn't want to burden him with what Sephiroth had said, but he eventually pushed it out of me."

"-What did Sephiroth say?" Yuffie asked.

Cid snorted. "I don't think it really matters what that skeezy-talkin' bastard said, Yuffie," he still hadn't looked up from his plans, "When's anything he's said ever good?"

Merlin looked up as if he was about to agree, and then seemingly remembered who he would be agreeing with, becoming re-absorbed with one of the many magic books strewn across his floor. The red anger from earlier still hadn't left his face.

"Well, let's pretend it's important," Aeris said.

"But it isn't," Cloud answered, wishing the old wizard had put away his pride and spoken up.

"Well, let's pretend that it _is_ ," Aeris replied. She was playing Sherlock again.

Cloud sighed. He was too exhausted to play another game of cat-and-mouse, especially when there were multiple cats and he was nothing but a helpless cloth toy to them.

"Sephiroth said..." Cloud stopped. Even though he himself thought what Sephiroth said was stupid, it still caused his throat to seize up. "He said that happiness is pointless, fleeting, fragile. He said that if I could remember the past, then I would know that. He promised to remind me.” His hand trailed to his back where his wing once had been. “To bring me back into the darkness where I belong."

"Do you really believe that, Cloud?" Tifa asked.

Cloud didn't respond. He didn't let a second pass for him to think too much about it. "Can we please talk about Leon?"

No one pressed him any further.

Cloud continued where he had left off, "The next day, Leon was gone. Someone told me he'd left for another world, but they couldn't tell me which. I would have gone to search for him..."

Tifa finished for him, "...But that's when we got the news that the Heartless had gotten stronger.”

Cloud swallowed in reply. "Yesterday, Leon told me that the answer to the Heartless had something to do with his past. That's when I began to wonder, why hadn't he told me anything before? I didn't even get a note before he disappeared..."

Cloud looked down to study the cracks and scratches in the table, feeling an odd kinship with them. "I realized, what did I have to give? I can't remember the Heartless taking over my world or what world I even came from. Could he trust anyone who might not even be a real person?"

“Cloud, none of us knew where he was,” Aeris began softly as he finished, “Yuffie only found him by accident. If Leon were going to tell anyone anything, you would be first.” She smiled slightly. “Trust me, I know."

Before Cloud had the chance to ask _how_ Aeris knew, Yuffie bolted out of her chair and slammed her fist on the table.

“That’s it," Yuffie declared, "We the Committee have decided you’re going to tell Squall how you feel!”

At the way everyone turned to look at the young ninja, specifically Merlin and Cid, Yuffie rolled her eyes and sighed. “Oh okay, okay. And maybe you should find out what’s going on with the Heartless while you’re there. We should probably start talking about that.”

"The Committee agrees," Aeris piped before Cloud could argue.

Cloud looked desperately at Tifa. She simply nodded and patted his knuckles. It was funny how, without a word, she'd told him exactly what he needed to hear: 'Trust us. You are going to be fine.'

"Alright," Cloud relented, "I'll go."

"Thank the gods," Cid groaned. "Not that y'all aren't near and dear to me, but now that Cloud's done with, I'd much like for our meetings NOT to turn into shitty episodes of 'Days of Our HP.’ I'm lookin' at you, 'leader.'"

"Hey!" Yuffie's cheeks puffed out, indignant.

They all laughed. Even Merlin chuckled, hard as he tried to resist.

Cloud found himself smiling, too. Maybe he didn't know if he had ever had a family, but the people around him now were so close it didn't seem to matter.

Most of the time, that was the thought that terrified him. He was afraid Sephiroth was right, that they were all fragile. That what they had was fleeting.

Still, in that moment, he chose to have faith. If happiness really _was_ fleeting, then maybe, maybe, it was still enough.

  
-

  
Leon surveyed the damage done to him in front of the bathroom mirror, clutching to the sink for support.

A purple bite marked the juncture between his neck and shoulder, dark as the bruised fingerprints cradling his hips. His knees and arms stung, red and raw from rug burn, littered with bruises from hitting against the floor. His throat was swollen, throbbing from crying out. He was quite amazed he hadn’t woken up paralyzed from the waist down.

(Great plan, idiot,) he gave his reflection a bitter smirk. (You went in with a mission and then just tossed it aside for the hardest fuck in your life.) He almost didn’t want to see his own face. (Let’s see if we can't fix you up.)

Fingers fumbling with the edge of the mirror, he yanked it open to reveal a cabinet full of healing items. With a sigh of relief, he grabbed a Hi-Potion and began to close the cabinet door, only to spot a sliver of Sephiroth coming up behind him in the mirror.

Panicking, he collapsed to the floor, stuffing the vial in the toilet and slamming the lid down with the entirety of his upper body.

Sephiroth walked in, stopped, and stared.

(Yes, asshole, I’m hugging a toilet.) Leon stared back, defiant. (It’s not suspicious. _At all_.)

Instead of demanding an explanation, Sephiroth shook his head and chuckled. It was the first time Leon had ever heard the man laugh without some sort of malice attached to it. He fought hard not to admit it, but it was kind of… nice.

“You surprised me this morning,” Sephiroth admitted, catching Leon off guard. “Few would have the nerve to pull what you tried. You are quite lucky to still be breathing.”

Leon tried to ignore the way his heart skipped at the compliment. (What am I, his yippy dog now?) He scoffed in annoyance, “I was horny and stupid.”

“Yes. You were.” Sephiroth agreed flatly. The sudden stone in his expression was a warning.

(Heh, the joke is on me.) Leon smiled bitterly. (For a moment there I almost thought we were going to have a semi-pleasant conversation.) “I’m going to have to go to the Marketplace to replace the belts you broke,” he announced, snark attached.

Leon knew avoiding Sephiroth was reverting back to failing tactics, but he desperately needed some time away from his torturer. He wasn’t too worried about the Committee seeing him. Being that the Marketplace was filled with Cid’s best Claymores, they usually focused on fighting Heartless in other areas. If he could get past Dark Depths, then there was little to no chance anyone would spot him today.

“Oh? You’re going shopping? With what munny?” Sephiroth asked. The older man’s regular cruelty seemed to have seeped back into his amusement.

Leon only paled in response. He’d left all his munny back in his house at the Borough.

“Clean yourself up,” Sephiroth ordered, “I will pay, provided no more silly thoughts enter your head.” He turned to the door and stopped, head turning back to peer at Leon. “Oh, and be sure to put that Hi-Potion back in its place. I would hate to have the glass break and end up stuck inside your lungs.”

(I’m sure you would,) Leon added to himself as the man left. Still, he heeded the threat and put the vial back, not without some disappointment.

With a few stumbling steps, he made it to the shower and turned the water on. Silver hair and feathers clogged the drain. Seeing how neat Sephiroth kept the rest of his house, Leon could only deduce the mess had been left there as a present for him. He stared at the many tubes of gels and scrubs, wondering where in that mess a plain bar of soap would be. And… was that a loofah brush in his bath?

Leon groaned, tracing his scar with his fingertips. The only thing that kept him from crawling his way back home, nakedness be damned, was the thought that Cloud could ever be in a similar position. Day three seemed to be dragging on forever. (Maybe that’s a good thing,) he joked sardonically to himself, (since I obviously don’t know what the hell I’m doing.)

  
-

  
Leon had never been so humiliated in his life. Not even when Sora, a kid, had beaten him with the Keyblade. The Committee, which hadn’t been made official yet, joked on him for what seemed like ages… until they each had their asses handed to them by the same boy at the Coliseum. He at least had been justified in that case.

There was no justification for what Sephiroth was making him endure now. (Bastard probably planned this from the start.)

Because Leon had been denied healing, he was limping horribly. Because he was limping horribly, he was forced to hold onto Sephiroth’s arm. Because he was holding onto Sephiroth’s arm, Sephiroth had an arm around his waist, hand uncomfortably close to his derriere. Leon was convinced he was being touted around like a trophy wife. (He sure is spoiling me like one.)

He was starting to think there was some ulterior motive to Sephiroth coming with him to the Marketplace— one other than degrading him in public and forcing his wounded body to move around more. After visiting the leather shop to get his belts, Sephiroth had decided to get him clothes and toiletries for his stay. Then he insisted on buying accessories for his Gunblade. He even mandated each order be moogle-delivered to his house, as if he were too good to demean either of them with carrying bags. When they had nothing left to shop for, Sephiroth demanded they eat at a 5-star restaurant.

“Did you enjoy your meal?” Sephiroth asked as they left.

“A moombaburger is a moombaburger. No matter where you get it, it all tastes the same.” (Still, did you have to spend _that_ much?) Leon made it a point to focus on his boots— it made him feel less self-conscious about the leers of the crowd, although Sephiroth didn’t seem to care.

“Good, then,” Sephiroth replied as if he hadn’t heard Leon complain, “What kind of ice cream do you want?”

(This is getting ridiculous.) “I don’t want ice cream.” (I want to go home— to _my_ home— and never walk again.) Unfortunately, Leon had little control over where Sephiroth steered his body. He soon found himself in line at a fancier version of McDuck’s. He huffed, “This doesn’t mean I’m ordering.”

“I will get you chocolate, then,” Sephiroth decided, “It’s the best flavor available anyways. Sea Salt is overhyped.”

If Sephiroth had phrased his words any other way, Leon might have let it go. “I think you meant to say _vanilla_ is the best flavor.”

Sephiroth looked at Leon as if he had grown a second head. “No, I meant _chocolate_. Everyone loves chocolate.”

“Chocolate is okay. Vanilla is the best.” Leon returned the look.

The man at the counter cleared his throat and spoke sharply, “What do you two want?”

Leon frowned. This was about the fourth place that had greeted them this way. Maybe this was just how high-end places were run. If so, he was glad he never went to them. (No wonder Sephiroth always has a stick up his ass.) “Go ahead. Get your over-priced chocoshit.”

“Oddly enough… I feel like vanilla today,” Sephiroth answered. “How about you?”

Leon’s frown deepened as he realized what he was in the mood for. (There must be something wrong with me.) “…I …actually want chocolate.”

Thankfully, Sephiroth did not comment on the obvious hypocrisy of the situation. By the puzzled look on his face, he seemed equally lost in his own flavor-identity crisis.

The workers in the back immediately started on their order, a few of them slipping in their rush to get the whole transaction over with. Sephiroth handed his munny to the girl at the register, and Leon couldn’t help but notice how her hands shook as she took it. Ice cream cones were in their hands in less than 30 seconds.

As they walked away, Leon only grew more troubled by the way people were treating them. Even if they were expensive places, it unnerved him how no one even smiled politely as soon as they saw Sephiroth. He had to know. “What did you do to everyone around here?”

“What do you mean? Oh-” Sephiroth chuckled darkly. “Well, when I first moved here, a lot of businesses in the Marketplace refused me service. I merely reminded them of the value of munny.” With a slight nod to his Masamune, Sephiroth licked his dessert like a cat with cream.

(Nice to know you take violence so seriously.) Disgusted, Leon tried to push some distance between himself and the other man.

Sephiroth only squeezed Leon against him tighter. “What kind of movies do you fancy? _Leechgrave_ is supposed to be a good thriller.”

(Alright, that’s it. I’ve had enough.) Lifting his eyes from his boots, Leon ground his heels into place. “What are you playing at?”

“Hm?” Sephiroth feigned innocence, “You’re not having fun on our little date?”

“No- I mean, yes- I mean-” Leon retreated to his ice cream in frustration. He wanted to avoid sounding any more flustered. (A _date?_ Is that what this is?) It surprised Leon that Sephiroth even knew what a date was. A part of him might have even been flattered… provided he could trust Sephiroth at all. (And if, you know, he wasn’t on Jiminy Cricket's list of monster douchebags. There _has_ to be something else. He doesn’t do anything that doesn’t benefit _him_ …)

Funny. It suddenly struck him how much Sephiroth reminded him of the way he used to be.

“Thank you… for everything,” Leon exhaled, “…but… why are you being so nice to me?”

Sephiroth chuckled. A gloved hand rose to lift Leon’s chin. In a moment, curved lips brushed against Leon’s. “I don’t have to be,” Sephiroth whispered against his mouth, “In most cases, you are safer assuming that I’m not.”

Leon didn’t know Sephiroth’s kiss could be so gentle. At the same time, the ice cream made Sephiroth’s lips terribly cold. It reminded Leon that there was something important he had forgotten. Something in that frigidness that bothered him. Something in that carefulness that guilted him more than when Sephiroth was rough. And yet Leon couldn’t fight it.

It was hard to resist when Sephiroth kissed him like a _lover_. An actual lover, not some toy he had picked up out of the Coliseum sand and dusted off. It was as if Sephiroth was giving him a rare glance into the man he _could_ be. That man was invitingly familiar, somehow.

The Marketplace’s busy crowds continued to pass by, melding into nothing more than a conjoined blur, and then finally sinking into darkness behind Leon’s closed eyes. He found his palms roaming up Sephiroth’s chest, his fingers curling in the ends of silver hair.

But before he wanted it to end, it was over. As Sephiroth pulled away, a smile graced his face, but his eyes did not look at Leon.

Instead, they looked straight at Cloud.

Maybe Cloud had been standing there long enough for the shock to wear off, but he didn’t look surprised. Instead, he looked as if he had simply forgotten to expect disappointment. The stale smile lingering on his face was like a stab in Leon’s gut. ‘You got me good,’ it seemed to say, ‘you got me good.’ As if nothing ever mattered, Cloud turned and hid his face.

And then, in a moment, Cloud was gone.

  
-

  
Leon pushed his hardest against Sephiroth, desperate for the vices around his arms to let him go. His lips tightened into a thin line. “You said you wouldn’t hurt Cloud if I was with you.”

“It hasn't been seven days yet,” Sephiroth mused. “You shouldn't give up, though. You've just proven yourself quite useful.”

Silence stretched between them despite the bustle of people around.

Sephiroth looked at the ground and raised a slender brow. “Looks like you dropped your ice cream while melting in my mouth.”

“You should save us both the trouble and go fuck yourself.” A hollow chuckle shook Leon's throat, bringing out the hoarseness of his voice. “There was never a way I could win this bet, was there?” It was less of a rhetorical question and more of a bitter confirmation to himself. ( _You were using me to hurt him all along. You were using me to pull him back into the darkness._ )

The satisfaction on Sephiroth’s lips was all the evidence he needed.

“Things worked out more quickly than I'd have liked,” Sephiroth admitted, his expression suddenly distant. “I was planning for the shopkeepers to mention us, for gossip to spread, for Cloud and the others to question you about it, for your lies to keep building… it really is a shame I couldn't string you all along longer.” He gave a pointed glance back in Leon’s direction, eyes roaming over him, up and down. “I will miss the company of your skin.”

Leon balled his hand into a fist and slammed it into Sephiroth's chest as hard as he could. He didn't care that the action caused himself more pain than it dealt. He didn’t care if Sephiroth killed him for it. He didn’t care if the whole Marketplace heard him yell. “ _Why do you care so much about breaking him?!_ ”

To Leon’s surprise, Sephiroth simply stared at him in return, studying him with fierce jade eyes. No amusement played at his lips. It was if the outburst had caused him to stop breathing.

Slowly, Sephiroth’s grip loosened enough to let Leon free. He was acting odd enough to make Leon question whether he had been mistaken- that somewhere in the other man there hid a decent being, one with the capacity for remorse.

But then Sephiroth began to laugh quietly and shake his head.

"Goodbye, Squall."

Leon said nothing in response. He turned and began to make his way home. The only remorse he could find here was that he had gotten so familiar with the feel of Sephiroth's lips. He hoped he would never have to see that villain smile again.

  
-

  
Cloud couldn’t go back to Merlin’s. He couldn’t face everyone and tell them the news. How would they take hearing their leader had lied? That Leon was with _Sephiroth,_ of all people? Would they even believe him? Even in his own head, it didn’t make sense.

But what did _he_ know anyway?

Cloud couldn’t go home. He knew if he did, everyone would barge into his house asking why he didn’t show up at Merlin’s. A closed door was an invitation for them, especially the girls. As soon as they saw Cloud’s face, they would demand to know what went wrong— in which case, he didn’t know what he would do.

Even though Leon had hurt him, his secret was not Cloud’s to tell. No, especially not when that secret would destroy the Committee. He would rather be destroyed first.

The way things were, he was quickly getting that wish.

It had been a long time since darkness loomed so prominent in him. Perhaps there was some truth to Sephiroth’s words— darkness felt like the safest company he could afford right now.

In the end, Cloud found himself at the Bailey. Almost ironic how he gravitated to the place he and Leon shared on sleepless nights, peering out from the balcony and making small talk until shades of dawn crept back into the horizon. He remembered things shared that no one else could know. If the Committee found out, they would be vulture food…

_“Hey, Leon."_

_"Mm?"_

_"Look over there. What does that Nobody think it’s doing?”_

_“Hm… looks like it’s trying to push that Heartless into a Claymore.”_

_“Hah. I doubt it. I think it’s just too stupid to understand where it’s going.”_

_“No, I think it has a pretty good idea what it’s doing, Cloud.”_

_“Oh? How do you know? Explain, oh Wise and Fearless Leader.” Cloud lifted a brow._

_“Didn’t you get the memo from Sora?” Leon replied all too matter-of-factly. “Killing Heartless releases their hearts, which is what the Nobodies want. They’re jealous of what they don’t have.”_

_“So what you’re saying is that Dusk is committing first degree murder.” Cloud’s eyebrow was in danger of disappearing into his hairline forever._

_It took Leon a moment to respond. “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying, smartass.”_

_“Just making sure you know how ridiculous that sounds.” Cloud looked away, and then grew puzzled, “So if killing Heartless helps the Nobodies, why are we still doing it?”_

_“Well, we can’t let them hurt the townspeople, can we?”_

_“Mm.” The puzzled look did not leave his face. “So why do we call them Heartless, then? I mean, they may be consumed by darkness, but they still have hearts, right?”_

_“Cloud.”_

_“Huh?”_

_It was Leon’s turn to look bemused, “Shut up.”_

He chuckled at the memory for a moment, but the tune of his laughter soon grew sour and quiet. Again, Cloud searched his mind for a way to understand what had happened back in the Marketplace. He couldn’t. The only thing that made any sense was...

_“…Happiness is pointless, fleeting, fragile.”_

Something odd struck Cloud’s peripheral vision, jarring him from his thoughts. Upon focusing on it, it looked to be a man being attacked by a Dragoon. Cloud sighed. What business did any resident of Radiant Garden have being out this time of night? With things the way they were, the man almost deserved to get ambushed.

Grimacing, the blonde made his way down. Even if the man was stupid, Cloud knew he couldn’t live with himself if he’d stood there and watched someone die. It didn’t mean he had a bleeding heart like he once thought Leon did. He was fully intending on finding out this man’s address so he could send Tifa to yell at him. She was good at that sort of thing.

  
-

  
Cloud could now confirm the stupidity of the man he was saving.

The Dragoon’s shockwave had struck and Leon was now on the ground, dodging its attacks by flopping back and forth. He reminded Cloud of a small child rolling down a rocky hill, except this little boy’s face looked much more pathetic.

“I can’t believe I wasted my time coming down here,” Cloud groaned, kicking the handle of a discarded Gunblade in Leon’s direction before evading a jump attack.

The scarred fighter said nothing in response, too focused on imitating a displaced fish to pick the weapon up.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, Leon? Take it, get up, and finish him.”

“Can’t.” Leon said between rolls. By the way his pupils looked, Leon was getting too dizzy to keep the act up much longer.

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t?’” Using the blunt edge of his buster sword, Cloud blocked the Dragoon’s lance and knocked the creature back enough to let Leon speak.

“My ass,” Leon breathed as he landed on his back, looking up at the sky, “is broke.”

“Oh.” Cloud deadpanned. “Well,” he said as he began to turn away, “You have fun with that.”

“Wait, Cloud, can’t we even talk about this?”

From the back of Cloud’s head, he could hear the Dragoon had returned to its prey. “What is there to talk about?”

“Help me get,” there was a pause, a ruffle of clothes and a groan, “this overgrown bee,” another audible shift, “off me.”

Cloud took a deep breath. It made his lungs ache. “Fine.”

  
-

  
Leon watched as Cloud pushed his foot off from the ground, leaping into the air and swinging his blade out from behind himself. With another push from a rock on the wall, the other warrior gained the height he needed to see the Dragoon’s neck. In a spinning dive, the Nobody’s head fell to the ground in a clean cut, and not too soon. The dead foes’ lance had nearly grazed Leon’s head.

Cloud dug the Buster Sword into the ground and walked towards him, grudgingly offering a hand. “Now what do you have to say?”

Leon stared at Cloud’s face intently. “Thank you.” As he took Cloud’s warm hand, blurred fragments of images surfaced from his subconscious. Again, he caught himself feeling like he was forgetting _something_. (There’s no time for that now.)

Cloud looked away, his tone bitter. “Don’t mention it.” He let go of Leon’s hand as soon as the other was able to stand on his own.

Leon leaned on his Gunblade, using it as a cane. His gaze never left Cloud’s face, even though the blond seemed uncomfortable with being scrutinized so closely.

There had to be something Leon could do to break the tension. He looked at the way he leaned on his Gunblade. “Aren’t you going to make a smartass comment about me being an old man?” ( _Ba-dum tiss!_ )

“Is that all you wanted?” Cloud spat.

(Alright, noted: tension worsened by crappy jokes.) Truth be told, Leon hadn’t planned out what he was going to say. All the lines he could think of were cheap, their use worn thin by cheating men throughout the ages.

In the end, he couldn’t focus. Seeing Cloud’s face this close kept reminding him of something in his dream. (Wait— What if Sephiroth wasn't the only person in it?) “I… I don’t have any excuses...” he said finally, tracing pale freckles with his eyes.

“Good then.” Cloud turned to leave.

“…But there is something I need to know.” Leon said. He wasn’t quite sure if he meant it or not, wasn’t quite sure if that something was even relevant. His instincts had finally escaped the grasp of his logic and were running away from him. It was a dangerous repeat of his thought process this morning, but at this point, what did he have to lose?

Cloud froze. “You don’t have the right to know anything about us anymore. I’m leav-”

Using the Gunblade as leverage, Leon fell forward, arms wrapping around Cloud’s shoulders, kissing him before he could finish the word.

Leon's dream became clear. The taste of those lips was like twilight between the man he loved and the man that gave him bittersweet misery. He threaded his fingers through blond spikes, trying to hold on to that moment, trying to understand before Cloud gained the sense to struggle. He began to worry when the moment grew too long and that struggle never happened.

Instead, Cloud remained limp as Leon finally pulled away for air, deep blue eyes sky-wide with confusion. “...I don’t get it, Leon… _Why?_ ”

Leon’s hands gripped Cloud’s arms. “I understand what Sephiroth means now when he says he is your darkness.” He looked into Cloud’s wide eyes. “He doesn’t mean that he’s simply the cause of it, though he does do his part.”

The confusion grew on Cloud’s face. “What do you mean?” After a moment, recognition settled on his expression. He began to laugh nervously, looking away, dismissive. “What a sorry excuse. My _darkness_? You’re actually using his metaphors to get away with this? I’ve told you, Sephiroth always says bullshit like that.”

Leon’s tone grew more serious. “When I met you, you didn’t have memories, Cloud. The reason you keep fighting him, the reason you let yourself continually be taken advantage by him, is because he knows things about you no one else does. This could be your answer. Sephiroth is your _literal_ darkn—”

“Enough.” Cloud’s rage returned two-fold, “I never thought you would be low enough to go there. Not with how much trouble you know my past gives me.” He took a firm step back, distancing himself from Leon’s hold.

Leon’s poor balance sent him falling to his knees.

Cloud winced, but made no move to help him up. “And about pasts, why should I even trust you? You weren’t even taking care of yours like you said you were." His voice began to shake, "I _worried_ about you. You _lied_ to me, to all of us.”

“I know,” Leon admitted, his fingers curling in the ground beneath him. “But please, think about it.” His eyes closed as his head dropped, face hiding in the shadows of his hair. “I promise you, no matter what, I will get this all sorted out.”

“You _promise?_ ” Cloud turned away once again, but he remained still. His head tilted, as if considering. As if debating whether to trust Leon, one last time.

“ _I promise._ ”

Cloud seemed to consider for a bit more, then nodded. “Go back to Sephiroth, Leon," his voice grew quiet as he began to walk, "and don’t come back to us until you’ve made good on your word.”

( _I will_.) Leon listened as the sound of Cloud's footfalls faded into the night. (You should know I always keep my promises.)

(Even if they are way more likely to break me than Sephiroth ever could.)

  
-

  
Leon sat in the corner of his bedroom, sipping slowly from one of the Elixirs he kept stashed in his night table, thinking. It felt too good to be here at home again. The very notion he would leave instead of leaping under his covers to greet sleep was almost impossible for his body to understand. The fact that he was heading straight back into Sephiroth's leather clutches seemed even more incomprehensible. But he would give Cloud his space. He would finish this, as promised. This ordeal had caused too much damage for him to back down.

Leon was not a coward like Squall once was.

“Darkness is simply the absence of light,” He whispered to himself. The phrase from Sephiroth’s book stuck out to him since learning how it related to the man’s existence as the dark half of Cloud.

(I get it now.) Dawn crept into the room from his window. It was hard not to notice how the shadows fled from the sun and multiplied in the shade. “Darkness is the absence of light,” he whispered again as he rose and grabbed his coat. (They really _are_ the same.) He began to pack a duffel bag with a few personal things and munny. He refused to be caught unprepared again. (Normally, humanity uses light to chase away the fear of darkness…)

He couldn’t help but grin to himself. For once in the past few days, he had a plan. An actual, real plan. One that wasn’t just a thinly-veiled go-and-get-laid plan.

(Sephiroth, you keep yourself in darkness because, like Cloud— _you fear the light_.)

 


	3. Chapter 3

As the doorbell rang, Sephiroth’s smirk spread above the rim of his coffee cup. _Status report,_ he began in his mind, _The moogles are here with Squall’s purchases from yesterday. I fully look forward to telling them to take all the merchandise back. I will demand a full refund as the correct goods did not arrive in the condition promised. In my rage, I shall give the beasts no tip._

Delighted with the thought of causing other lifeforms misery, Sephiroth wiped the smirk off of his face and tried to make his hair look as disheveled as his vanity allowed. He wanted to look as if he were interrupted from a pleasant dream.

As he opened the door, the farce became reality. Squall’s things had arrived at his door, but so had… Squall.

_I am experiencing an unexpected change of plans. My initial reactions include confusion, anger, and small quantities of fear that I will vehemently deny to myself. Appropriate actions I will consider include slamming the door in Squall’s face, degrading him by referencing his past servitude to me, or calling him a whore_ while _slamming the door in his face. Under no circumstances must I entertain the idea that his presence is welcome here. I must grin like a smug asshole and take action_ now.

He didn’t get the chance to. “I’m here to finish my seven days,” Leon pushed the boxes of purchases inside before Sephiroth could shut the door, “Unless, of course, you are chickening out on our contract.”

_Squall has initiated a challenge to my manhood. I must abort my previous mission and defend my pride at all costs._ “Of course I’m not,” Sephiroth growled lowly. “But please be aware that I had been on my best behavior for you in the past. Now that I have no use for you, I will not be so kind.”

“Can’t say I expected anything different,” Leon answered with a shrug, dipping down to open his packages.

As Leon pulled the tape from the first box, his eyes brightened. With a small smile, he pulled out a plastic bag containing his new pair of belts and tore it open, fastening the leather bands around his hips. They fit perfectly, and something about the way they hung on Leon tempted Sephiroth to rip through them all over again.

_Under different circumstances, there would be no need to restrain myself. As it stands, the situation is …complicated._

He watched mutely as Leon unpacked from a duffel bag he had brought with himself, taking his things, along with his new purchases, and organizing them all to fit inside one of the bigger boxes. Lifting the cardboard crate up, the brunette made his way upstairs, ducking into the bathroom. Sephiroth, unable to stave his curiosity, followed close behind.

In abject horror, he witnessed Leon stick his toothbrush into his toothbrush holder. As if the hunk of plastic and bristles belonged there. As if _he_ belonged there.

Feeling the older man’s presence behind himself, Leon cocked an eyebrow. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me?”

“Yes.” Sephiroth answered. The notion that he would help someone out of kindness, especially to _invade his house_ , was ridiculous.

“Fair enough,” Leon mused, opening the cabinet and beginning to fill the empty spaces.

To Sephiroth’s pleasant surprise, Leon paid attention to the order things were placed in, taking great care not to disturb anything that was already there.  
  
_Perhaps this will not be so terrible. The agreement is only for a few more days, and at the very least, Squall appears to be as neat and efficient as myself._

“Oh,” Leon began as he finished his task, closing the cabinet, “I wanted to thank you for taking me out and buying all this for me yesterday,” he nodded to the box, “even if it wasn’t with the best intentions.”

Sephiroth remained silent.

“Here,” Reaching behind himself, Leon fished in his pockets and pulled out two laminated tickets. “It isn’t _Leechgrave_ , but I thought you might appreciate this sort of thing a bit more.”

As Sephiroth took one of the tickets in his hand, he recognized the insignia for Atlantis Theater engraved at the top— a trident that shimmered gold against a dark blue backdrop. The name of the event was written underneath in all capital letters: _SPECTER OF THE UNDERWATER MUSICAL._

His eyes immediately snapped back to Leon’s face. How did he know?

Leon’s smile was warm and wistful. “I guess it isn’t a selfless gift. Specter happens to be my favorite show in Atlantis.”

_Lies._ Sephiroth’s usually objective mindset crumbled into chaos. _Specter of the Musical ever so coincidentally happens to be_ my _favorite show— and so help me, Squall, I will discover who or what is responsible for divulging that information to you._

By the way Leon’s grin began to wane, Sephiroth figured the look on his face must have been quite terrifying.

“You don’t like it?” Leon asked. “I could probably exchange the tickets and we could go see something else.”

“No,” Sephiroth answered, perhaps too quickly. He cleared his throat. “That will not be necessary.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure,” Sephiroth replied. “I will agree to go see it, provided that you also pay for refreshments.”

Instead of showing any of the anger Sephiroth expected, Leon simply snorted softly and shook his head. Picking up the remains of his things, he squeezed past Sephiroth, heading back into the walkway.

“Where do you believe you are going now?” Sephiroth asked.

The answer was obvious, given the process of elimination and the modest size of his house. Still, Sephiroth hoped that somehow another room would spontaneously materialize and that Leon would choose to go there instead.

“Our room,” Leon answered, opening the bedroom door.

Sephiroth did not follow this time. Instead, he stood in the hallway, frozen.

  
-

  
A sense of unrelenting unease always followed Sephiroth whenever he did not carry his sword. Atlantis Theater did not allow any weapons, however, and he respected the establishment enough to obey their rules. Rules that, anywhere else, he would take as simply suggestions. Before today, he took comfort in becoming so engrossed in the performances that his need for arms would temporarily be forgotten. Unfortunately, today he was not alone.

“A tiger shark, huh,” Leon said, admiring the faded black spots on Sephiroth’s gray tail. “Suits you.” He grinned. “You know, sharks are very misunderstood creatures.”

Sephiroth huffed, swallowing the last piece of the sea pretzel Leon had bought him. “There is nothing about me to misunderstand. I am a killer.” He looked down at Leon’s tail, noting the red, white, and black bands that grew sparse on the other’s many transparent fins. “And at least I am not a pterosis.”

Leon’s face scrunched up in confusion, “Huh?”

“You’re a lionfish, _Leon_.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Leon rolled his eyes, seeming to have heard the joke before. The doors opened and they swam into line. “You want to know another interesting fact about sharks?”

“Please,” Sephiroth answered tonelessly, “Enlighten me.”

“Flip them on their backs and they're harmless,” Leon said, handing their tickets to the doorman.

_Was that intended to be some sort of cryptic message?_ Finding himself unable to tell, Sephiroth took his ticket stub back from the doorman and propelled ahead to find his designated clamshell. As he spotted it, he glanced at the stub to confirm the location three more times:

The cushion that filled the shell fit two.

  
-

  
“You would be wise to return to your half of the clamshell,” Sephiroth growled in warning, keeping his voice low solely in courtesy to the other patrons. His arm tensed, unaccustomed to the feeling of Leon’s side pressing up against it. In a gentle, but firm motion, he attempted to bump the other man off.

In response, Leon wrapped around Sephiroth’s bicep and squeezed. “Don’t be an asshole. The water’s cold here.”

_Is that really the case, I wonder? But then again, why would Squall use an excuse to willingly hang on to my person like a lovesick teenager?_ Sephiroth’s lips spread into a thin line. _And although I usually enjoy Atlantis’s magical habit of making men’s shirts disappear, right now it has only heightened the awkwardness of my situation._

_The water is a bit chilly, however. I suppose there are worse fates._

“Alright,” Sephiroth relented, “I will allow you to share some of my body heat. However, if the end of your tail so much as grazes mine, you will find yourself in a ‘whole new world’ of pain.” As if to rid Leon of the temptation, he curled the appendage as close to himself as possible. “Consider yourself quite lucky I did not bring the Masamune with me.”

“Understood,” Leon answered. Despite the threat of violence, he gave Sephiroth a small smile. The edges of his slate-blue eyes softened. “Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t.” Unable to meet Leon’s kind gaze, he turned away, his attentions back to the stage.

With nothing to separate his skin from Leon’s, he could feel the other’s warmth seeping into him like the heat of a campfire. It made him uncomfortable ways that ravaging the other in bed didn’t.

As Leon’s mouth neared his ear to whisper, every nerve from earlobe to neck began to prickle, “This song is one of my favorites.”

Tilting his head away from Leon’s lips, Sephiroth eyed him with a spark of danger. "What do you hope to accomplish by doing this?"

"What do you mean?” Leon asked, settling back against Sephiroth’s arm. “We're watching a musical and I wanted to talk to you."

Sephiroth scrutinized the other’s expression. _On one hand, he could be telling the truth. On second hand, he could very well be lying._ He tended to trust the latter instinct more. “Well, if you have anything else to say, I welcome you to say it now and then leave me in peace.”

Cocking his head to the side, Leon’s eyes wandered in thought for a moment. Finally, they settled. "Sebastian the Crab must have been in a dark place in his life when he wrote this."

Sephiroth’s expression went completely blank.

Heaving a sigh, Sephiroth brought his fingertips to his temples, rubbing them in small circles, “Is that really all you wished to tell me?”

“No, not really,” Leon admitted, his mouth stretching into a sheepish grin. "I guess that if I had anything else to say about this play, it would be that I identify with the Specter quite a lot."

At that, Sephiroth nearly snapped his own neck to look at Leon. "Nonsense. You could not possibly empathize with the Specter on the level that _I_ have."

He realized in that moment that any pleasant mood built between them had now been broken.

Leon immediately released his arm, no longer wishing to have anything to do with it. “No,” he replied, pushing back the hair that floated in front of his face as he backed away. He finally kept to his side of the cushion. “There’s no way _you_ could ever understand him like _I_ do.”

Sephiroth waived his hand with a sour chuckle. “Tell me, what do _you_ have in common with the Specter? A disfigured face?” He nodded towards Leon’s scar.

“And what do you share with him, Sephiroth?” Leon spat in return, “A knack for tricking people into your secret lair?”

Sephiroth’s face tightened, the end of his shark tail twitching like an annoyed cat’s. “I have told you twice now, Squall, and I will say it again: _Do not pretend to know me._ Who are you to understand the transpirations of my life until this point? To decide why I have made the choices I have made?"

As Leon opened his mouth to respond, a loud “Shhh…” came from one of the other shells. His lips immediately closed and Sephiroth made no further comments.

Both of them maintained their silence until Intermission. It was then that Leon finally spoke.

"…So you love this musical, too, huh?"

"…I have a certain fondness for it, yes."

Leon began to chuckle, and despite himself, Sephiroth joined him. It had been a long time since he had heard the tune of his own laughter.

He allowed himself a small smile. “Let us think better about arguing over fictional characters any longer.”

  
-

  
As they swam back into the lobby, Sephiroth watched Leon pause in front of an all too familiar poster: a woman stood front and center, her right hand tugging down the hem of her evergreen dress, her eyeshadow matching. Her left arm was hidden from the viewer behind her back. Her closed eyes focused on some unknowable abstract, her eyebrows knitted in concentration.

It was _Loveless._

Leon seemingly took note of the way Sephiroth’s eyes lingered on the advertisement. “Do you want to go see it?”

“No.” Sephiroth said quickly.

“Why not?”

Sephiroth frowned. “I once knew a man who adored that play so vehemently that he purchased a copy of the script for himself. He read it aloud every day until the pages fell apart... He was an asshole.”

“Fair enough.”

There was something off about Leon. Ever since the performance had ended, a nostalgic wistfulness overtook him, his blue eyes far away, a sad smile caught on his face. He no longer tried as hard to infiltrate Sephiroth’s personal bubble, instead content to swim at arm’s length.

Sephiroth nearly wanted to ask what was on Leon’s mind. _But that would imply that I cared._ He pressed his mouth shut. _I did not enjoy myself so much as to forget that Squall has worn out his use. I must remind myself of that. I must remind_ him _of that._

Again, Leon seemed to read him. "I used to know a girl like Christina,” he offered. “She had a beautiful voice, too."

Sephiroth’s mouth pressed thinner. "Why are you not with _her_ , then?”

Leon did not rise to the bait. Instead, he met Sephiroth’s eyes. “I’ll tell you. In fact, I’ll tell you everything.” His voice was level, his head tilting to the side. “But you have to answer me one thing, and I think it’s only fair.”

“And what is that?” Sephiroth asked sharply.

“Who did you lose to the darkness?"

_Ah. Of course._ "Now I see what your true intentions are.”

Sephiroth grabbed Leon’s neck in one swift motion, pinning it to the lobby wall with all his force. Schools of nearby guppies spooked, darting in zig-zags towards the surface. The patrons of Atlantis fled in panic around them, crying children yanked away by screaming parents. One of them was bound to call security. Sephiroth did not care. “I thought I had made it clear before that _this is not a game_."

Leon did not flinch. To Sephiroth’s terror, he _smiled_.

"I know who you really are," Leon whispered with as much voice as he could manage. The backs of his fingers pet down Sephiroth’s jaw, his touch trembling but tender. Even with a hand gripped around his pulse, his smile grew, his blue eyes softening and crinkling at the edges. "Because of that, I will never be afraid of you again."

He looked like a man in love.

Sephiroth yanked his hand from Leon's neck as if it were a pillar of flame. His thin pupils flickered wildly over Leon's smiling face, his usual cruel objectivity gone and replaced by _how, how, how?!_

He swam backwards, away from Leon.

And then he disappeared.

-

_Knock-knock-knock._ “Clouuuuud, are you theeeerrrre?” Yuffie called, her hands cupped around her mouth.

Cloud’s home in the Borough was sparse. Even more sparse than Squall’s next door. And like most houses in the Bourogh, it was unfortunately _ugly._

A human-sized hole decorated the side of his roof, patched over with planks of wood— apparently some mishap of flight from when Cloud still had his wing. The bricks were mismatched shades of red, no pattern to their placement in the walls. An uneven dye job coated the door in patches of gray and black.

It was as if the house were having an identity crisis fit to match its owner’s.

A potted flower sitting on a windowsill provided the only warm touch of home. The flower was Aeris’ doing. She and Tifa took turns watering it every morning before checking in on their favorite ‘son’. Cloud had trouble enough remembering to take care of himself, let alone another living thing.

Speaking of Aeris, she had gone back to her healing duties, leaving them without her once again. Only Cid and Tifa had come with Yuffie. Cid mostly to check on his Claymores and have a breath of fresh air from Merlin.

“Here, let me try,” Tifa said.

Yuffie stepped aside.

_KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK._ With every strike of Tifa’s fist, the door shook in its frame, the knob jingling along with the hinges.

No one answered.

Tifa sighed, resting her chin on her fist, her other arm wrapped around herself. She shifted her weight on her hips. “Do you think he’s avoiding us?”

Yuffie shrugged. Unable to help being nosy, she crept up to each window of Cloud’s house and peeked inside, searching for any signs of activity. “There doesn’t seem to be any lights on.”

Cid took a long drag of his cigarette then flicked it on the ground. “So let me get this fuckin’ straight.” He crushed the cigarette under his boot. “We’re out not only Aeris and Leon, but now Cloud, too?”

“I’m sure Cloud and Leon are together,” Tifa said, glancing at Yuffie. “Didn’t you say Leon was looking into the Heartless situation?”

“Well yeah, but…” Yuffie swished her mouth to the side. Hadn’t Squall said she'd be the ‘first to know’? Sure, she had accidentally broken her end of the bargain, but she expected better from _him._ Cloud might be his boyfriend now, but did that really make him all that special?

Tifa smiled. “I’m sure we’ll run into them sometime while we're on patrol, then.”

Cid didn't seem to buy it, muttering a few choice curses at the ground.

“The Heartless situation seems to have calmed down a bit.” Tifa tried. “At least, we haven’t run into any of the larger ones today. We should be able to take care of things on our own.”

“We’ll see,” Cid said. He picked his spear off of the ground and gave it a twirl. “Let’s be goin’, then.”

Tifa nodded and turned to leave.

“Um…” Yuffie pursed her lips, trying to think of an excuse. “You guys go on ahead. I… I think I forgot something back at my house.”

Cid turned and gave her an exasperated look. “You better hurry on back.”

“I will!” Yuffie said, her voice a higher pitch than she meant it to be. She crossed her fingers, winked at them, and then ran off.

Who did Squall think he was? Did he think he could drop a hint about _Heartless_ and _his past_ and pretend Yuffie wouldn’t pry it out of him? Plus, it wasn’t like him to break a promise. At the very least, if Cloud knew now, Squall would _have_ to tell her what was going on.

Passing the door to her home, Yuffie sped off to Dark Depths. As the Committee’s leader, she was going to give Squall a piece of her mind.

  
-

  
Books flooded the floor of Ansem’s study. They hung from chairs and the ends of tables, obstructed ladders and clogged doorways, cluttered anywhere that wasn't a shelf.

Cloud stood at the center of the mess, his fingers flipping through his latest read, his eyes skimming the words before tossing the book onto the pile and grabbing another. Darkness had him scouring through the texts as if possessed.

He could longer suffer the gaps in his memory, the great hazy black patch before he woke in the Coliseum. He could no longer ignore the question of his identity, if he could claim he even had such a thing.

He could no longer rely on Sephiroth. He would have to ignore the way the darkness drew him toward the dark angel, pulled as if by some terrible string of fate. Darkness whispered that Sephiroth knew all the answers, but Cloud had finally had enough.

It was one thing to deal with the man’s mind games and cryptic messages alone. It was another now that Leon was…

He couldn’t think about it. He grabbed another book instead.

Unfortunately, he felt a familiar pull at his chest, like a receding wave, that announced the last person he ever wanted to see.

He snickered to himself sourly. He had thought of the devil, and now the devil had appeared.

Sephiroth slammed open the door to Ansem’s study, sending books flying across the room. He crossed the sea of texts in long strides to Cloud, gripping him by both arms. “Do you remember?”

Cloud looked away. The touch on his arms filled him with an odd electricity. It made him sick with revulsion, made his lips pull back over his teeth. “Remember what, exactly?”

Sephiroth shook him. “Anything. Your past.”

Cloud still would not look at him. “Why do you think I’m here in Ansem’s study? How do you think you manipulate me so easy?” He smirked without any humor, the edges sharp as glass. “You think I go to you for fun?”

He could sense Sephiroth’s eyes searching him, the feeling so tangible it pressed against his skin. “How is it that Leon discovered us, then? Tell me, in what other way would he have known?”

With one sharp pull, Cloud released himself from Sephiroth’s grasp. He finally met the other’s eyes. “Don’t know what you’re on about.”

Sephiroth let out a long sigh that ended in a growl. He threw his gloved hands into his silver hair, then paced in a circle. He lifted his head and threw a pointed glare at Cloud. "Leon has become quite the unwelcome pest. Remove him."

Cloud laughed, a joyless barking noise. "Sounds like your problem, not mine. You two looked so cozy yesterday."

Sephiroth continued to glare. He threw his hands down and straightened his back. "Remove him or I will deliver him to your doorstep injured beyond the reach of any magic."

At the threat, Cloud’s hand reached behind his back, gripping Buster Sword and swinging it down in front of him. He kept it level with Sephiroth’s head.

"I do not intend to fight you today." Sephiroth’s flat face held no amusement.

"Then what is that sword for?" Cloud nodded towards Masamune at Sephiroth’s back.

"To disarm you if necessary." Sephiroth turned his back against Cloud, leaving himself uncharacteristically open. “But it seems you will not do as I say, nor do you hold the answers I need, so I will let you be.”

Cloud did not put away his sword. He waited for some trick, for the other to leave him with one last taunt. Nothing ever came.

He had never seen Sephiroth so unbalanced before— no, it wasn’t that— he had never seen anything throw Sephiroth off _at all_. “…What is with you two?”

Sephiroth turned his head to look at Cloud, frowning in profile. “That is not for you to know.”

It was Cloud’s turn to search the other with his gaze. “If he’s so much of a pain, then why haven’t you …taken care of him yourself? Why do you need me?”

Sephiroth faced away from Cloud again. His silhouette was oddly still. Time passed— a pause stretching long and tense between them.

Cloud put away Buster Sword. He wanted to laugh. The silence told him everything he needed. The tables had turned for once and now Sephiroth— _Sephiroth_ — was _afraid._ “No, then. I won’t take him back. Leon’s an adult. He can leave if he wants.”

Cloud smiled then, small but genuine. “If you want Leon to go, then he must be doing something right.”

Sephiroth did not turn to look at him. “You understand nothing,” he said. And with that, he left.

For the first time, Cloud could not find it in himself to care.

  
-

  
Despite the fact that Sephiroth lived in an area labeled “Dark Depths,” he had never before felt any anxiety about his home. After all, what was there to fear in the dark when you were darkness itself? But now, as he stood in front of the door to the house he had built, he regarded it as if a wild animal had been set loose inside.

_What funny ideas have gotten into your head now, Squall? When I enter, will you greet me with a hug? Will I be told “Welcome home, dear!”? Will you have made me chocolate chip cookies? What sort of humiliation have you prepared for me, now that you feel so smug in knowing my secret?_ As his gloved hand turned the brass knob of his door, the corners of his lips pinched downward, bracing for the worst.

The sound of his piano being played filled the air as the door widened. At first, the keys rung out in solitary notes, then in harmonies, intermingling into a haunting refrain that grew louder as he neared his study.

Candlelight bathed the house in a golden glow, casting dark shadows behind everything it touched, flickering softly.

Finally, he saw Leon seated on the wooden bench, his knuckles perfectly arched, wrists relaxed, his fingers pulling the music from the ivory keys instead of simply pushing them.

“You’ve had some classical training, I see.” Despite himself, Sephiroth was impressed.

“I actually taught myself by reading books,” Leon answered with the whisper of a smile, his fingertips continuing to dance among the keys. With a small motion, he slid aside, making enough room on the bench for Sephiroth to sit.

Sephiroth did not take the invitation. “Good. I am bothered enough that you decided to touch my things without permission— had you not known how to play my piano properly, you would have found yourself without hands.”

“You left me alone,” Leon replied, mood unfazed by the threat, “I got bored. What else was I supposed to do?”

Sephiroth gestured towards the candles with an open palm. “And I suppose digging out my emergency lighting was part of this boredom? Are you aware of the size of my house? Of how easily you could have burned the place dow-”

“-Sephiroth,” Leon interrupted calmly. As Leon looked up at him, the smile on his face remained unwavering. “Sit down and play with me.”

Despite all the reasoning in his head telling him not to, Sephiroth soon found himself on the bench next to Leon. He made it a point to keep his eyes fixed on the keys. “So what piece did you have in mind, exactly?”

Leon’s grin widened in answer. Grazing ivory and black, his fingers finally found their place, a note ringing out twice in quick succession, followed by a somber chord that also repeated.

_White Mushroom Rhapsody No. 2._ The meaning was not lost on Sephiroth. Any pianist worth his sea salt was expected to be able to play the piece, and a duet between two musicians was, in all honesty, a duel. _Well, then._

Gloved fingers stepped back and forth between two keys, then struck the same chord Leon had played before in response. Sephiroth looked over his shoulder at Leon, the arch of a silver eyebrow rising even as the rest of his expression remained unamused. “I accept your challenge.”

At first, they took turns, picking up immediately where one would stop, the beginning of the lassan a melody that paced itself dramatically, like a matador circling a bull with red cloth.

The tune then shifted, four hands playing their share together, each keeping to their side of the piano. The bullfighter and his worthy adversary became two lovers engaged in a tense tango, alternating between tantalizing distance and harsh embrace.

As the piece began to call for higher notes, Leon smirked, his fingers moving further up the keys and back. Sephiroth followed after closely, determined, hands occasionally crossing over their invisible line.

Once, twice, their fingers nearly brushed against each other, but Sephiroth managed to evade Leon each time.

Gradually, the tempo changed. The two dancing lovers intertwined their arms, beginning to spin each other around in circles, faster and faster, losing their footing. Hands began to cross over hands, at first casually, then frantically, all boundaries between the two men forgotten in the ever increasing chaos.

Somewhere between the notes, Sephiroth could hear Leon laughing. The music of it did something very different to him than the melody he was playing. It made him remember what it was like to have warm blood in his veins instead of cold. It made him want to smile, as if he had lost nothing at all.

_As if he had lost nothing at all._

Sephiroth’s hands immediately froze, Leon’s knuckles and elbow clashing into his.

“Shit!” Leon pulled his arm to himself, gritting his teeth. It took a few seconds for his face to relax from wincing. His gaze shifted to Sephiroth. “Did that even hurt you?”

“No.”

“Are you even going to ask if I’m okay?”

“No.”

“Are _you_ okay?”

“Goodnight, Squall.” Without another word, Sephiroth stood up from the bench and turned mechanically, his eyes trained on the stairs leading up to his room.

“Don’t go.” Leon reached his hand out for Sephiroth’s arm—

—But Sephiroth had pulled away, leaving Leon’s fingers threaded in his black wing instead.

The strange feeling caused something to catch in Sephiroth’s throat, something he did his best to choke down. He hoped Leon did not notice.

But Leon was being damned perceptive today.

His eyes closed into slits as Leon’s hand pet him deliberately. The same heady adrenaline he felt during flight filled him as warm fingers moved. His feathers lifted at each touch, the skin at the base of each pinion stiffening with goose bumps. Nerves hummed alive. A tremor traveled down to where his wing met his back, his spine tingling deliciously.

As his wing shook, the bottom feathers rattled against each other in a ceaseless, chaotic rhythm.

“What do you believe you are doing?” Sephiroth asked, though he could not get his voice to sound as angry as it needed to be. He could not let Leon think he had a weakness, no matter how good it felt being exploited.

“Sit back down,” Leon breathed, adding “please” before Sephiroth could protest about being given orders.

Ignoring rational logic yet again, Sephiroth sat back down. He faced the piano, side-eyeing Leon suspiciously. “You did not answer my question.”

Leon stood, unzipping his own pants, peeling them off his thighs and kicking them away. He stripped his underwear next, his cock bobbing out, flushed and semi-hard. “Does that answer your question?”

Before Sephiroth could run, Leon was straddling his hips. A hand ran down his lower stomach, dipped under the waist of his pants, pet at his base.

The attention to his wing had already stirred his arousal, and now the heat of Leon’s hand had him stiff, his hips leaning in to his touch.

Leon licked his lips.

“You should know by now,” a rough breathlessness overtook Sephiroth’s voice, “you cannot trick me into divulging my past.

Leon leaned forward to kiss at Sephiroth’s ear. “I’m not interested in that right now.”

Leon's hand undid Sephiroth’s pants and pulled his cock free. From the inside of his fur-lined jacket, he pulled out a small vial of Elixir. It wasn’t the best solution, but it was a solution when there was nothing else.

“Part of our agreement is that I get fucked, right?” Leon’s hand coated Sephiroth’s shaft with long, pressured strokes. “Well right now I’m interested in fucking my brains out on your cock.”

_What harm could there be in this?_ Sephiroth could not deny himself any longer. With brutal quickness, he rid Leon of his jacket and shirt, tossing them on top of his discarded pants. His hands roamed where they wanted, filling themselves with sun-kissed skin.

Leon leaned back, slate-blue eyes half-lidded. Coating his hand with the last of the Elixir, he began to finger himself with long, deep strokes, stretching himself as Sephiroth watched. It did not take long for him to ready himself— he had been given plenty of use lately.

Grabbing Sephiroth by the shoulders, Leon lowered himself down on the man’s hard cock, rolling his hips at the halfway mark. Reaching his base, he rocked back and forth, moans rising from low in his throat.

Sephiroth made a small noise that turned into a groan. His gloved hands rested lightly on Leon’s waist, careful to not impede his movements, his thumbs running up and down the dip of his hip bones.

Leon continued to rock back and forth, rising up to Sephiroth’s tip, holding onto his shoulders for support. Without warning, he slammed himself downwards, forcing a cry from both of their lips. He stilled for a moment, then he rose once more, swiveling his hips to the tip and slamming back down again. He repeated the pattern, again and again, alternating between rocking his hips and rolling them, his movements picking up speed.

Sephiroth dug his fingers into Leon’s ass, then scratched up his back and sides. His hands resumed roaming, one thumb circling Leon’s nipple, the other hand pinching the inside of his knee. He found he liked the way Leon hissed at the pinch. He found he liked a lot of things about Leon riding him- the way Leon’s stomach muscles worked, the flex of his thighs, the look of rapture on his face…

When had sex last felt this good? For all the frequent times he had had it, Sephiroth honestly could not remember.

“Getting… close…” Leon stopped bothering with any fancy motions, instead fucking himself on Sephiroth’s cock as fast and hard as he could. He paused only once, clenching his inner muscles briefly, shooting Sephiroth a wicked grin.

There was a blank in Sephiroth’s memory. The next thing he knew, he had Leon pinned against his piano, their cries barely carrying over the wailing ivory keys. He bucked into Leon with abandon.

With one bite into Leon’s neck, one last deep thrust, he came, Leon’s body swallowing him in waves.

“Leon…” Sephiroth’s wing shook as he collapsed against him.

A silence settled between them both, broken only by their ragged breathing.

Leon finally moved, his hand pushing sweat-drenched silver bangs out of Sephiroth’s face. The same hand lifted up Sephiroth’s chin, forcing green eyes on his blue. Leon was still breathing hard, a smile on his face as bright as a summer sunrise over the ocean. “You said my name…”

Sephiroth wondered how Leon could smile so easily when all he felt… was _fear._ It seeped into his waking consciousness, suffocating him, the chill growing in his veins until they burned.

Leon had to _know_. This was all a trick. Leon had been fooling him from the start.

Sephiroth’s face stiffened, his gaze narrow and hardened like jade. “Get out.”

Leon face twisted in confusion. “Are you alright? Did I do something-”

“I refuse to be duped by that either.” Sephiroth pushed himself off of the other man, zipping his pants back up. “I am quite aware of what you think you are doing.” He grabbed Leon’s clothes from off of the floor, tossing them at him. “Seven days be damned.” He turned his back against Leon. “Now get out.”

  
-

  
Leon leaned his worn body against the dark blue pillars of rock outside of Sephiroth’s home, still reeling. He had put on only his pants and left, worried he would not be tolerated even a second more. He buried his face into his jacket and shirt, wiping sweat from his brow and neck. He wished he could wipe away the hollow pit in his chest, the knowledge that yet again, he had failed.

What had he done? What had upset Sephiroth so much? (Whatever I did, it’s probably too soon to pry.)

But maybe he already _had_ pried. Without knowing, he had cracked open that dark heart too much, too soon, and now it snapped shut, leaving him back here, stranded on the street. Back at square one.

What if it was too late? What if that heart had now closed to him forever?

“Squall?”

Leon froze cold. Slowly, he lifted his face from his jacket. Only one person other than Sephiroth called him by that name.

Yuffie stood before him, her face scrunched in confusion, her hands on her hips. “What are you doing here?”

Her head tilted, black bangs shifting across her headband.“I mean, I knew you were _here_ ,” she half rolled her eyes, “but Cloud’s always warning us that Sephiroth lives—”

—Without thinking, Leon’s fingers reached to hide the bite mark on his neck.

Yuffie stopped speaking. Her gaze followed the mark, the dotted curves of two unnatural half circles.

“…Yuffie…” Leon tried to put on his jacket, to cover his indecency, the mark, his shame. All of it.

A feather shook free, black and long, floating to land on the ground between them.

Yuffie’s round eyes widened, impossibly large. Her head shook, and then again, struck with disbelief. She took a step back, and then another.

“Yuffie…” Leon pleaded.

“No…” Yuffie shook her head again. She reached to her belt, her hand curling over a smoke bomb. “Don’t you dare follow me.” She turned and ran on swift ninja feet.

Leon couldn’t catch her if he tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The duet (piano duel) is Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2. 
> 
> Next chapter is going to take a bit to put out.


	4. Chapter 4

Yuffie’s eyes stung, but she wouldn't cry. She’d done enough of that last night. Now her eyes were red and raw. 

As she sat at the round table in Merlin’s home—  nervously tapping her foot against her chair, waiting for the Committee meeting to start— she was torn between the truth and what that truth would bring. 

She thought she had known Squall, but apparently, she’d been wrong. They’d all been wrong. But what was she going to do, let their so-called “leader’s” fuck up tear the whole Committee apart? 

This was a big girl problem. One she hadn’t faced since the Heartless had invaded her world what seemed like ages ago. Big girl problems demanded big girl thinking. The Committee was in _her_ hands now. 

She tried to forget that Squall was the one who put them there.

“Nice of you to join us, Yuffie.” Cid side-eyed her as he slumped into his seat. “You find a portal to Wonderland lookin’ for whatever in your house last night? Or did you just fuckin’ forget about us?”  

“Sorry,” Yuffie murmured, more to the table than anything else. “I guess I can be sort of scatter-brained, huh.” Again, she spoke to the table.

Cid gave her an odd look— a pinch forming between thick blond brows— before he seemed to think better of asking her anything. Instead, he pulled out a match and his smokes. The match hissed as it brushed up against the sandpaper end of the carton, loud against the silence in the room.

Tifa said nothing to Yuffie as she sat next to her, though Yuffie almost wished she _would_. Instead, Tifa had her arms wrapped around herself as if she could soothe her worries for The Committee away. She seemed to think it was better than showing those worries on her face, her expression carefully neutral.

Yuffie wanted to scream. 

Instead, she slumped deeper in her chair, pressing her face against the wood. 

“Now then, is that all of us?” Merlin adjusted his glasses as if poor eyesight were to blame for how few people gathered at the table. 

“That's all of us,” Cid said, bitter as soap on the tongue. 

“Then let’s get this meeting started, shall we?” Merlin said. “How faired your patrol yesterday?”

Tifa lifted her head and tried on a smile. “Well, there are far less Heartless than there had been. And the few we encountered were small. Aeris was even sent home from the clinic last night.” 

Tifa smiled a bit more, and the gesture seemed to come a bit easier. “She wanted to come to the meeting, but I… _convinced_ her to stay home and rest in our bed.”  

Yuffie murmured, “Gods know _that_ wasn’t an easy task.” Her words, yet again, were spoken to the table instead of anyone else.

It was Tifa’s turn to give her a strange look— but again, nothing was said. 

Merlin nodded. “And what do you think, my dear Tifa, may be the cause of the Heartless decreasing in number?” He straightened his back as much as an old wizard could— obviously fishing for a very specific — _magical—_  answer.  

Cid flicked the cherry of his cigarette on the floor, not bothering to use the ash tray provided to him. He leaned back, tilting his chair with him, and blew smoke straight at Merlin’s face. “I betcha it was puttin’ more Claymores around.”

The plume of smoke seemed to blow the posture out of Merlin’s spine. Red rose in the old wizard’s cheeks. He combed his white beard with his hands as if to prevent them from wringing Cid’s neck.

Yuffie sighed. “For once, can we not have this argument?” she whispered, once more, into the wood of the table. She cradled her head in her arms as if she could just make the world all go away.

Yuffie didn't expect the silence that followed after. She’d assumed they’d all go on arguing without her, that she wouldn't have to worry about telling them about Squall until her thoughts were more in line. 

As she lifted her eyes from the table, it nearly startled her how everyone’s gaze pressed against her, a circle of frowns. 

“What?”

Tifa was the first to speak, her head tilting towards her. “What’s wrong, Yuffie?” 

“Wha-What do you mean, _‘what’s wrong’_?” Yuffie laughed, a small, choked staccato. “Nothing is.” 

“You’re not yourself,” Tifa pushed. With a mother’s care, she placed a hand on Yuffie’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Cid said. “Usually you're a bit more loud and obnoxious at these meetin’s. Not sittin’ there mutterin’ to tables.”

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” Yuffie flinched away from Tifa’s touch and rose from her chair. 

She turned to Cid. “I’m just tired of you and Merlin always fighting is all! Especially when there’s so much more important stuff going on!”

“Like what?” Cid asked. 

“N-Nothing! I mean, the Heartless!” Yuffie nodded to herself in an impression of a bobble-headed doll. She clenched her fists at her sides and nodded again. “Yeah!” 

Cid half-rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Haven’t you been payin’ any damn attention to this meetin’ at all? We’ve just been sayin’ that the Heartless have been decreasi—” 

“—Squall’s fucking Sephiroth.” 

Yuffie gasped. Her hands flew over her mouth as if to prevent any more secrets from escaping. 

Again, there was silence. This one by far the heaviest. 

Yuffie swore that if you listened, you could hear the gentle rustle of Archimedes’ feathers as he slept in his cage. The dreaming owl’s soft serenity stood in stark contrast to the quiet chaos that stampeded into the room as if someone had summoned Dumbo. 

“…What,” Tifa asked, paling like a sheet.

Yuffie exhaled, the air pushing out of her lungs. It was a heavy, aching thing. 

“I didn't go back to my house last night,” Yuffie admitted.

Cid snorted. “No kiddin’?”

Tifa raised a hand up to Cid, a stop sign— _let her speak._

“I went to Dark Depths.” Yuffie continued. 

Yuffie had thought she had no more tears left, but here they came once more, stinging at her reddened eyes and gathering in her lashes. “When I went, I saw Squall. He was coming out of Sephiroth’s house with his shirt off and— and— there was—” 

She couldn’t go on. She touched her neck where she had seen the mark.

She was thankful they seemed to understand.

_“Fuck,”_ Cid said simply. 

The edges of Tifa’s eyes narrowed, a flash of red in her irises. Her face hardened into a marble mask. 

Yuffie imagined that behind that mask, memories of Cloud discarded in Ravine Trail surfaced, his face smudged with dirt and blood, his blue eyes unfocused. The way his first words were not to ask where he was but _who he was_ and Tifa’s heart swelling with the need to wrap her arms around this broken man until the pieces forged back together.

The Committee was one worry, but _someone had hurt Cloud._ Like a bear rising from the den to protect her cub, Tifa did not forgive such things lightly. 

“I-I see,” Merlin said awkwardly, shifting his wizard’s hat on his head as if the shock of the news had blown it back. “Considering this piece of information, what are we to do?”

“I vote to remove Leon’s membership in the Committee,” Tifa said, cool as frost. 

“That ain’t how a leader should be actin’” Cid said. “Makes you wonder what else he’s been hidin’ from us.” He shook his head. “And he’s with Sephiroth, of all people?” He leaned back in his chair and kicked his heels up on the table, ignoring Merlin’s glare. “Thought he had better taste. I vote we kick him out, too.” 

Yuffie was quiet. A tear had spilled, and now it was cooling on her cheek. Some part of her still wanted to believe in Squall, to believe what she’d seen had been a mistake. That what was happening right now was _real_ was… 

“I… vote to kick Leon out, too.” The words felt strange, wrong as they came out of Yuffie’s mouth. But they had been said, and now what was done was done. There was no returning to where they’d all been before.

“I don’t want to be doing this, but...” Another tear spilled down Yuffie’s face, “considering what I saw…” 

“The Committee is decided, then,” Merlin said, a deep frown pulling at his wrinkled face. 

“Well.” Cid said. “Who’s gonna be the one to break it t’ him?”

Yuffie didn’t answer. She had had enough of this ordeal. Her hands were clean now.

“I will,” Tifa said. She rose from her chair, fists curling on the table.

“I have a few things I’d like to say to him.”      

  -

 

No matter how many times Leon knocked at Sephiroth’s door, the damned bastard would not answer. 

Not to talk about what had happened, not to hear an apology for whatever Leon had done, not at the reminder that Leon had left all of his stuff in the man’s home— including his toothbrush.  

Still, Leon parked himself in front of the rock house, sitting against the archway of the door, his legs spread out across the entrance like a tripwire. 

Sephiroth had to venture outside _sometime_. 

He could wait him out. 

For all the hard work and maturing that had gone into becoming 'Leon,' he was still every bit as stubborn as Squall.

Besides, this ordeal had done too much damage, had earned too much sunk cost. He had promised Cloud he would see things through. And now that Yuffie knew his secret, it was as good as the entire Committee knowing. 

He snickered to himself sourly, (What else do I have to lose?) 

It was then that he saw Tifa. 

Tifa walked towards him, slow and deliberate. She stood straight and tall, her chin held high, her toned arms at her sides. Her hands were in fists, but they were not clenched. Not yet. 

He got up off the floor to meet her, finding eyes hard as mahogany. He straightened his jacket and prepared for the first blow. 

“I want to know one thing, and I want you to be honest.” Tifa’s face betrayed no feeling. She never showed her back to an enemy. 

Her gloved hand gestured to Sephiroth’s home. “Are you sleeping with Sephiroth? Is this all,” the hand swept down to the bruise on his neck, “really what it looks like?” 

Leon rubbed at the bite mark. He glanced at the locked door and frowned. “Yes and no?”

Tifa didn't laugh. Instead, she placed a finger under his chin and turned it towards her, forcing him to look at her. Her voice remained calm. “That’s not an answer. Either it’s a yes or it’s a no.”

“Unfortunately.”

She pushed him away. _“What the fuck, Leon?”_

“I know you won't believe me, but,” Leon regained his balance and swallowed, “I did this all to protect Cloud.”

“You're _damn right_ I don't believe you.” She flung her hands in the air. “How does _fucking Sephiroth_ protect Cloud? How does it do anything but _hurt_ him, hurt _all_ of us?”

“Sephiroth said he would leave Cloud alone if I did.”

“And you believed him?!” Tifa scoffed. “And how are we supposed to believe _you_ when you’ve lied to us so many times already?” she snapped. “Looking into the Heartless? It ‘has to do with your past’?” She crossed her arms over herself.

“Tifa—”

“We…” For a moment, there was a heaviness in the way she held herself. Her head bowed, her eyebrows knit. “We’ve voted to take away your title as Leader.”

He stilled. His blue eyes rounded. His mouth opened, but he had forgotten how to speak, how to even inhale air into his lungs. 

And then again, Tifa’s posture stiffened into marble. 

Her face cleared with purpose. “Well, that’s all I have to say to you. I hope you enjoy the bed you’ve made for yourself.” Her eyes narrowed into hard splinters, digging into him at every angle. “From all the marks on you, you seem to be.” 

She turned away from him.

“Tifa—”

“— _Don’t_.” 

She walked away. 

He didn’t follow.

_‘What else did he have to lose?’_ What a silly question. 

He slumped against Sephiroth’s doorway, sinking down, down, back onto the floor once again. 

He was losing more with every second—  like sand sifting through a sieve. 

-

_Remember me... and always keep your light safe._

Cloud woke with his face pressed against the desk of Ansem’s computer. As his eyes slit open, the giant machine whirred, a lulling sound that made him almost want to drift back into sleep, if not for the glaring static glow of the monitor towering above him.

He didn’t remember how he had gotten there, but that was not an uncommon thing. If he made a note of every gap he had in his memory— deep cracks in the walls of his mind— he would have little space on those walls for anything else. 

As he sat up, a mountain of books slid off of his lap and onto the floor with a clatter. _That_ he remembered. He had been scouring the study, looking for some scrap or hint of his past when Sephiroth…

Sephiroth… He had been acting _so strangely_. Over Leon.

Another memory filled his head then— the two of them at the center of the Marketplace— the touch of Sephiroth’s glove so gentle on Leon’s face, but those slitted green eyes staring directly at _him_. 

His chest ached, a shiv of ice jealousy piercing its center. But then— 

_"Leon has become quite the unwelcome pest. Remove him."_

—What kind of game were the two playing? 

Hadn’t it been Sephiroth who had provoked Cloud first? Wasn’t this meant to be an affair, a dark and twisted dance, only for _them_? 

But now Leon had crossed over the line into their tango, had become their meddling, unwelcome third…

_“I promise you, no matter what, I will get this all sorted out.”_

The past few days spun around in his head like a carousel threatening to careen off the rails.   

Cloud stared up at Ansem’s computer, trying to stop the sense of feeling dizzy. If anything in this study had answers, if there was some bit of data that could make sense of all of this, some piece of history, maybe it had been stored away in _here_. 

He took a moment to remember the password, then typed in the names of the Seven Princesses of Heart. The monitor lit up with a simple word: 

QUERY. 

“Cloud Strife,” Cloud tried. Even as he spoke the name, he had a sinking feeling he already knew the computer’s response:

**NO SUCH DATA EXISTS.**

Well, he supposed it was worth a try. After all of his searching, he did not expect the answers he had long been waiting for to come just as easily as a few taps of the keyboard, just as simple as saying his name. 

A name _Sephiroth_ had given him.

Another memory flit into his mind:

_“I understand what Sephiroth means now when he says he is your darkness.”_

Cloud could not decide which was worse— the possibility that Leon was lying to him, or the possibility he was telling the _truth_. 

So much about the way he felt around Sephiroth made terrible sense if Leon was right— their wings, one mirroring the other, a mismatched pair. The sharing of senses when they touched, like an echo underneath his skin. The push and pull of Sephiroth’s presence, like an ocean tide in his chest, flooding into Cloud when he was near— and eroding away at him when he left.

Maybe Cloud had been looking for his answers in the wrong place. 

Again, he looked up at Ansem’s computer.

“Sephiroth,” he tried. 

A portrait of the silver-haired man appeared in the left hand corner of the screen— a shot in profile, his pale, sharp features enhanced. His pointed chin was tilted ever so slightly upwards, his full lips in a small, dignified smile. 

He looked calm, sane. So different from the Sephiroth he knew.

To the right of the portrait, Ansem’s computer provided the only information it had:

**A GREAT GENERAL. EVACUATED MANY IN THE INVASION OF HIS HOMEWORLD BEFORE HIS DEATH.**

_Well._

Cloud could imagine Sephiroth as a General. The dignified way he held Masamune and the merciless way he used it was proof of at least _some_ military training. But evacuating his homeworld?

Cloud couldn’t imagine Sephiroth fighting for anyone other than himself, couldn’t imagine him pulling anyone loose from a pile of wreckage, couldn’t imagine him escorting women and children onto the Gummi ship that would lead them to safety. 

Couldn’t imagine him _risking his life_ for it. 

Sephiroth had told him that their homeworld had been lost to the darkness, but he had never mentioned anything about his life before the invasion, or about the invasion itself. Cloud— busy searching for his own past and filled with a general contempt for the man— had never cared to ask him.

Whatever connected him to Sephiroth, those pieces of the puzzle were missing— and well, wasn’t _that_ the summary of his life? The more things seems to clear, the more other things became muddled— like a camera switching focus, the background blurring away.

Another memory floated to the surface, a bitter one,

_“Because the answer may have something to do with my past.”_

But did it, really? Leon had said it was the key to figuring out what was going on with the bigger Heartless, but what if that was just the first in a line of excuses? 

_But_ — if Leon was _right_ about his connection to Sephiroth, maybe there was some truth to his other claims as well…

Maybe it was prying into matters he shouldn’t be, but Cloud decided he would find out.

“Squall Leonheart… homeworld… invasion.”

The screen sparked alive with lines and graphs referring to Heartless, statistics showing number and sizes, the density of them in any given place.

There was a sharp hike in strength and activity for a number of days, and then barely anything, and then…

The pattern was all too familiar.

“Sephiroth,” he queried again, but this time, “homeworld invasion.”

Lines and graphs lit the screen up again, nearly a ghost of the ones that had been there just before. A high spike, and then the quiet before the storm.

It was just like...

Cloud rose out of his chair.

They only had three days left.

-

Cloud had rushed to warn his companions of the incoming invasion, but when he arrived at Merlin’s, the scene in front of him slowed his pace to a glacial stop. A quiet had settled over the wizard’s home like a weighted fog, unsettling, thick as a blanket.

Instead of their usual round of puffed-chest bickering, Cid and Merlin sat at opposite ends of the room, backs hunched over, studying. Cid straightened out his technical manuals to inspect them closer. Merlin adjusted his glasses to read up on his potions. Neither one spoke to the other, despite the fact that a cigarette lolled out of the corner of Cid’s mouth, trailing embers on Merlin’s wooden floor. Merlin wasn’t even grimacing over the fact.

Instead of his two ‘mothers’ whispering and giggling in each other’s ears like co-conspirators, there was no Aeris, leaving only Tifa. Tifa sat, cross-legged, in the center of the room, meditating. Her long-lashed eyelids were squeezed shut— as if, with enough effort, she could _ohm_ away the thoughts that wore a crease between her brows.

Instead of bouncing around the place, waving her shurinken with pride, Yuffie sat slumped against the table, muttering softly to it. This seemed the oddest sight of them all. Yuffie _never_ muttered to _anyone_. Indoor voice and a proper level of enthusiasm were not a part of her ninja skills.

No one seemed to flinch or even notice as Cloud entered the house. No one asked where he had been, where he had disappeared to _this_ time.

And for the first time, he wished somebody _would_.

“I...” he began, not quite knowing where to begin anymore, “have some bad news.”

“Great,” Yuffie murmured to the table, her finger lazily drawing a half-circle on it. “ _More_ bad news.”

Cloud turned to her, the question forming in the firm press of his mouth. He spread his hand out and gestured to the house, to everyone in it. “What happened here?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Yuffie said, again to the table. Her long sigh misted over its surface.

“Heard what?”

But there was no answer. 

“Heard _what?_ ”

The crease in Tifa’s brow deepened, but she kept on _ohm_ ing away.

Merlin stayed absorbed in his books, but his hand now fumbled at the pocket in his robes, fishing for his pipe.

Yuffie kept silent, staring into the lines of the wood. A second finger on the table joined the first, trailing behind, swirling figure-eights.

Cloud was about to demand again when Cid finally plucked the cigarette from his mouth and coughed.

“Y’seem like the type who likes it direct an’ honest, so I’m gonna give it to ya straight, Cloud.” Cid took another puff, then threw his cigarette on the ground, snuffing it with his boot. 

Merlin, still, said nothing.

Cid grimaced, glanced at Cloud. He spat. “Sephiroth’s fuckin’ Leon.”

Cloud wanted to laugh. 

He imagined if he did laugh, it would be curt, bitter. So _that_ was all this silence was about?     

With everything that had happened, was _about to_ happen, Leon’s affair with Sephiroth seemed silly, quaint. 

“I know.”

At that, Tifa’s eyes snapped open. The furrow in her forehead gave way into worry. “Cloud, I’m so sorry.” Slowly, she rose, walked towards him. She placed a gloved hand on his shoulder. “We were all tricked by him, but you the worst one of all.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Cloud brushed the hand off. 

He took a step back, his eyes searching them all, his voice loud, firm. “Listen—  Leon’s up to something. I can’t explain it right now— but...” Cloud took a deep breath in, composing himself. “I believe in what he’s doing.”

Cid snorted. “An’ what the fuck is _that_?”

Still, Yuffie’s head lifted from the table to stare at him, her brown eyes shimmering with _something_ — perhaps a shred of _hope_.

“There’s a pattern,” Cloud began, “between the invasion that took over Sephiroth’s homeworld and the invasion that took over Leon’s.”

He told them about what he found in Ansem’s study— not only the pattern in the graphs of Heartless, but also the oddity in Sephiroth’s file, the strange way Sephiroth attempted to evade Leon.

When he finished, all heads were turned towards him, all distractions pushed aside. A different silence fell over them than the one he had arrived to.

Cid, again, was the first to speak. “I’ll  use Ansem’s computer t’ broadcast an evacuation message.”

Merlin shuffled through his tomes, opening up to a bookmark. “I shall reinforce my magic glyphs and provide an escape route down toward the gummi ships.” 

Yuffie hopped up from the table with renewed energy, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I’ll direct the townspeople and keep them safe!”

Tifa nodded. “I’ll go get Aeris and we’ll round up the wounded. They should be the ones to board the ships first.”

“I’ll go tell Leon,” Cloud said.

At that, something broke across Tifa’s face, like lightning crackling across a gray sky. Again, she placed a hand on Cloud’s shoulder. 

He did not brush it off this time. “What is it?”

“Cloud… there’s something else we should tell you…” her troubled gaze lowered with her voice, “… about Leon.”

Cloud stiffened. “Something else?” Was there something worse Leon had done that he had not known about? Worse than _fucking Sephiroth_?

“We...” She pulled her hand off of his shoulder, pulled it against her chest. She rubbed her wrist as if it were wounded— as if Cloud might not want her touch after what she had to say. “We stripped him of his title... as Leader.”

Cloud said nothing. There was nothing left to say.

It was all spoken in the widening and narrowing of his eyes, in the sharp turn of his body— 

—in the heaviness of his steps as he walked away.

-

A pale streak the color of Leon’s scar slashed across the sunset sky. The first stars were beginning to twinkle, glints of silver in the distance. Another day out of seven almost over.

Leon stayed sitting in front of Sephiroth’s home, his legs spread out. Exhaustion and hunger threatened to take him, but he remained, as immovable as stone.

(What else is there but this anymore? What if even _this_ comes to nothing?)

From the darkening horizon, a familiar shadow crossed his path. His heart sank deeper into the pit of his hollow stomach. 

It was _Cloud._

What was _he_ doing here? Why had he come now, when Leon still didn’t have any answers for him?

“Leon.”

Leon looked up expecting to see a freckled face full of hurt, sadness, betrayal.

He was surprised when he found none.

Instead Cloud’s eyes seem to study him underneath long blond lashes, his head tilted, curious. “Sephiroth locked you out?”

“Yeah.”

“Is this part of your plan?”

“No.” He smiled sheepishly.

And then Cloud smirked in the small way he used to, when they would tease each other at the Bailey. It was an invitingly familiar smirk. 

A smirk like coming home.

And just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished.

A shadow passed over Cloud’s eyes. “I wish I had some better news to tell you.”

He listened as Cloud relayed the details of his odd meeting with Sephiroth. Of Sephiroth’s file and how it said he was once a _general_ who had _saved people_. Of how he was supposed to be _dead_. Of, finally, how the invasion of Sephiroth’s homeworld matched up with the invasion of his own, that a similar invasion was coming _here._

Leon stood. “—We need to gather up the townspeople.”

Cloud placed a hand on Leon’s shoulder. “Calm down. The Committee has a handle on it.” The hand squeezed. “And, if the pattern really is the same, we have at least another three days to plan things right and get everyone evacuated.” 

Leon’s back slowly slid back down the doorway. He grimaced. “I have to be honest with you— I was bullshitting when I told you it had to do with my past. I didn’t know then that I was telling _the truth_.”

“I think... I always knew,” Cloud said with a small frown. “But that isn’t important to me right now, though we're going to have a talk about it later. I came to talk to you about something else.”

"Something else?"

Cloud nodded. He reached into his pocket, pulled out two tickets. They were a familiar shade of rustic red, letters engraved in gold, a filigree of dark brown bordering the edges:

THE BEAST INVITES YOU TO BE OUR GUEST.

“The Beast’s annual gala...” Leon said with a murmur of wonder. Leon took the two tickets in his hands, a soft shine in his blue eyes. He couldn’t hide that he had always wanted to go. The tickets were coveted across worlds, given in person by The Beast only. Leon’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You want me to go with you?”

“No.” Cloud had that wistful smirk on his face. But again, it disappeared just as quickly as it began. “Not my kind of thing. Apparently not Sora’s either, since he offloaded them on to me the first chance he got.”

“Then... this second ticket is for...” Leon looked at Sephiroth’s door, confusion falling over his face again. He stared back at Cloud. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. 

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Leon, but you seem to know what you’re doing.” Cloud kneeled in front of Leon to look him straight in the eyes. “I’ve never seen Sephiroth run from anything, and yet you’ve got him running from _you_.”  

Leon couldn’t hold the intensity of that gaze— he looked away.

Cloud put a gloved hand on Leon’s cheek and gently pulled him back to face him. “You must be close to something he doesn’t want you to know. And if…” Cloud swallowed, as if he did not want to say it, “…we _are_ the same person…” he gathered himself together, “…then what he has to hide might have something to do with me.”   

Leon didn’t know what to say. After so much deception, this was more than he felt he deserved. It seemed impossible that Cloud was going to help him win this bet, impossible that Cloud was even standing here, talking to him.

But what happened next seemed even more impossible.

Cloud pulled him in by the hand on his cheek, closing the distance between them. Hot breath ghosted over his lips, a nose brushing his, and then there was wet and sweet and warm and then...

“I _know_ you, Leon,” murmured against his mouth, “I _trust_ you.”

The warmth of those lips spread through his body, filled up his chest like a balloon about to burst, sparked like steel striking flint up his thighs.

And then Cloud pulled away, leaving him cold again.

“Don’t let me down.”

Leon opened his mouth to answer—

—and his stomach growled in response.

Cloud stilled. Puzzlement twisted his face.

And then he began to laugh.

A warm flush crept over Leon’s face. “Shut up, all right? I’ve been waiting for this ass to get out of his hole all day.”

“He’s not...” Cloud caught his breath, straightened himself, dusted himself off, “He’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“How do you know?” Leon asked.

The humor faded from Cloud’s eyes, the smiling crinkles at the edges smoothing out and away. “I just... _know_.” He looked to the stone house. 

An understood silence passed between them. 

“Let’s get something to eat, then.” Leon said, getting up off the floor and offering a hand, a distraction. “McDuck’s?” 

Cloud took the hand, threading his fingers with Leon’s. “Yeah.” A small smile.

“When we get there,” Leon said as they walked together, hand in hand, “I promise— I’ll tell you _everything_.” 

And Leon never broke his promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not really feeling this chapter and shit has popped off in my life leaving me pretty depressed. I hope it doesn't show. This was copied and pasted straight from Scrivener, with little to no editing. BUT!!! The things I'm excited to write about most are coming up. Secrets will finally be unveiled! 
> 
> It's going to take another chunk of time, though, because I'm doing a holiday event for another fandom. Thank you guys for being so patient. Thank you for indulging me and my friend in this pairing, and me in this story.


	5. Chapter 5

Sephiroth lay in his bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. Not since Squall had left. He worried that if it _did_ come, the memories would follow with it, twisting into nightmares, staining his waking moments like black oil in water. He could do without the reminder, his own words coming back to haunt him—

_Happiness is fleeting, pointless, fragile._

He opened his eyes to a room draped in blue night. He gave up on sleep.

Instead he took to the stairs, meandering down each step towards the kitchen.

As he neared the bottom step, a bundle of blankets on the couch made him still— his breath rasped in his throat as he stared.

He marched toward the bundle, ripped the blankets away. There was nothing. No Squall. No wrinkle of a scarred face and grumpy protestations of being _cold, you asshole_.

Something inside him ached, and he did not know why.

_All is as it should be._

“Hn.” He smirked without any mirth. He grabbed a mug of hot chocolate from the kitchen and returned. He lifted a book from his extensive shelf and sat on the empty, Squall-less couch. He opened the book up to a bookmarked page and tried to submerge himself in its words.

There was nothing but stillness and silence, and that should have been a comfort to him.

It was the stillness that made the scrape of something against the floor so loud. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something slip underneath his door. In the dim lamplight, it looked like a simple card, rust in color.

_So Squall has not left after all. What sort of trick does he believe he is playing at now?_

He had half a mind to stand and ignore the thing, to take his book and walk back upstairs to his room. It was what he _should_ have done. Squall had proved himself more trouble than curiosity was worth.

Instead, Sephiroth rose from his chair and neared the door, dipping down to snatch the card away. He could see it wasn’t a card now, making out the golden letters. No, it was an invitation to the—

“ _—Beast’s Gala_.” His breath hissed back in his lungs. “How could he have procured _this?!_ ”

A folded slip of paper followed, the handwriting far less composed than tidy swirls and fancy script of the invitation:

_Meet me at the Gala. Let me have one last day and I’ll prove to you that I am worth it. If this doesn’t change anything, then I will leave you alone. I promise._

_-L_

Sephiroth stared at the invitation as if it might be a trick of the lamplight, a mirage, as though it might disappear in his hands. It was a dream of many to go to the Beast’s Gala, and now that he was holding his right to attend, he could not easily let go.

Would he give up such a chance simply because Squall would be there?

 _No._ It was only one night. He could manage Squall for one night. And then the man would be out of his life for good. Things would go back to being the way they were meant to be— he would be alone again.

He smiled at that, thinly.

Taking the invitation with him, Sephiroth rose up the stairs to dress.   

-

Leon had been to Beast’s Castle before— accompanied by Sora at the time— but the structure never failed to impress him.

Four white corner towers shot up into the blue-violet night sky, bright as the shimmering stars, the rooftops as red as the crushed velvet carpet rolling down the steps to the entrance. The entrance itself was framed by an open, wrought iron gate, trimmed evergreen gardens at either side. Instead of a moat, a shower of meteors protected the fortress from attack, a long clear streak splitting the field of celestial debris in two, but only enough to handle one gummi ship at a time.

It was at the gate that he saw Sephiroth.

Leon could now believe Sephiroth had been a general. With what Sephiroth wore, Leon wondered how he had never guessed it earlier. He imagined Sephiroth wearing it to parties in his Homeworld, raising money for the military by entertaining guests and looking pretty sipping champagne.

Sephiroth’s black jacket was more form-fitting than his usual affair, the tail of it a lot shorter, but an ‘x’ still crossed over his bare chest— his signature style. White astronomical designs were emblazoned onto his wide belt, as beautiful and cryptic as the man who wore them. Underneath one of his pauldrons was a sash in a deep iris color, diamonds and jewels the size of hail dangling from the cloth.

Sephiroth looked every bit as wealthy as the Beast, every bit a part of the Gala as the golden lights and crystal chandeliers Leon could glance from the outside.

Unfortunately, the guards did not seem to agree.

“Halt!” An animate fire poker shouted, ambulating towards Sephiroth in wide, swooping hops. “As a villain, I cannot allow you past this point of the premises. You must leave at once!”

Sephiroth looked down, regarded the poker coolly under long silver bangs. “I will not leave. I have an invitation.”      

The poker directed its pointed head towards him, glowing cherry red as if it had been recently stoking a fire. “A likely falsehood. The Beast would never give a villain such as yourself an invitation to his Gala.”

Leon watched Sephiroth calmly hold up the invitation in front of the guard to see.

The fire poker’s head began to steam with heat. “Impossible!”

Another guard, a well-worn black spade, came to see the commotion. After regarding his companion and the invitation, it waved itself from side to side in disapproval. “I am sorry. We cannot honor this. There is no manner in which we can allow a villain to grace our Master’s ballroom. It’s unthinkable!”

Sephiroth put a hand on the hilt of the Masamune. Unfazed, he seemed prepared to settle problems the way he always did when reason failed.

Leon’s face fell flat with lack of surprise.

Bodiless suits of armor hopped from their decorative places against the castle walls, closing in on Sephiroth from all four corners.

Leon knew that in one strike, the former general could split them all into halves. It would take him only a moment. By the look on Sephiroth's face, he was inwardly yawning at how much excitement the idea caused him.    

It was time for him to intervene.

Leon broke through the surrounding circle of armor, holding up his hands. “Hold on. Hold on.” He looked to the fire poker and spade. “Is this any way to treat friends of Sora’s?”

“Sir Leon!” the spade gasped.

“Friends of Sora’s?!” the fire poker asked, spinning in place with shock. Behind it, the armor suits clattered against themselves, their clanging sounds and bobbing movements like old maids muttering gossip to each other.

“It's through Sora that we got our invitations.” A half-truth, but not an outright lie. Leon dropped one hand into his pocket and pulled out his own summons.

As the spade dipped its head to stare at the invite, Leon felt Sephiroth’s impassive eyes graze over him, seemingly taking in his outfit.

Leon’s attire was dark blue and trimmed with gold, hugging his torso in the way any formal outfit should. Leather boots reached up to his knees, accentuating the shape of his calves. A chain hung between two leather pauldrons just across his chest. It was a uniform from his days in his Homeworld. 

Leon was very proud of himself. He cut a fine, clean silhouette. 

Sephiroth caught his gaze suddenly, quickly looked away.

The spade slapped against the ground, punctuating the ground with each syllable, making a point of every word, “This. is. unconscionable! Unprecedented!”

The iron poker sighed, releasing more steam that rose in silver wisps by the moonlight. “I suppose we must let you pass.” Its end turned from ember red to a cool black.  “But keep an eye on your friend, Sir Leon. We will not hesitate to remove him should he become an issue, friends of Sora’s or not.” 

Leon gave a curt nod to the poker to show he understood, then took Sephiroth by the arm to pull him away from the guards.

Sephiroth shook himself free. Without another word, the silver warrior stalked towards the ballroom, losing himself in the thick of the entering crowd.

-

Long tables bordered the walls of the ballroom, adorned with plain lavender cloth. The unembellished shade contrasted nicely against ornateness of the golden candelabras and enormous plates of food, the crystal dining utensils and ivory flower arrangements. The tables left plenty of open space for the room’s occupants to loiter or to waltz underneath the umbrella of the room’s vaulted ceiling, it’s face painted with flushing cherubs,  burnt-orange sunrises peeking over white clouds.

Plenty of space for Leon— despite Sephiroth being over six foot tall— to lose the man in.

Sephiroth had been flitting between tables of food and drink like a bee flitting from flower to flower. Always, conveniently, the table he needed was across the room from Leon. Always, conveniently, the path there was obscured by a thick thatch of guests.

“You can’t avoid me forever,” Leon said, trailing after him. “Sooner or later, you’re going to be full.”

“You underestimate the size of my stomach,” Sephiroth said, snatching a miniature sandwich off of a golden plate and moving across the room once again. “My metabolism is quite high from all of the fighting and fucking I do.”

Leon couldn’t help but snort at how ridiculous the situation was becoming, at how ridiculous Sephiroth was making things. “Are you that afraid of me?”

“Your tactics will not work on me any longer.” Sephiroth swallowed a bite of his sandwich quickly, serpentining through the crowd as if trying to escape a bullet. “Because yes, I am quite terrified of you. And you are so terrible as to know it and think that it means you hold power over me.”  

“I... What?” Leon’s eyebrows bunched together on his forehead as he followed after. “I just want to dance with you, Sephiroth.”

“A trick. A ploy,” Sephiroth hissed lowly, pushing his way between and through a couple in embrace, “I should have known when I first set eyes on you that you were more trouble than you seem.”

“I don’t want to trick you.” Leon’s softened his gaze. He offered a hand to Sephiroth’s retreating back, palm up, pleading.  “I just want to dance. Please. Put that sandwich down.”

“Why should I trust you?” Sephiroth finally stopped moving. He turned and faced Leon with a sober expression. The lines of his mouth drew tight. The rest of him looked exhausted, worn puffs underneath flat, jade eyes.

(Has he even slept since the last time we were together?)

Leon lifted his hand, brushing Sephiroth’s long hair out of his tired face and over his shoulder, letting it spill like a silver waterfall over his back. “Have I ever broken a bargain with you before?” He looked straight into Sephiroth’s eyes, daring him to look away. “Even when it hurt me and the ones I loved, did I ever break my word?”

Sephiroth flinched at the hand, stepped back. Considered him. “No, you have not,” he said finally.

Leon took Sephiroth’s free hand in both of his, lacing their fingers together. “Then let’s dance.”

He pulled, but Sephiroth remained glacially still.

“I...” Sephiroth began, then stuffed his mouth with the second half of the sandwich. He covered his mouth with his free hand and looked away. His long eyelashes lowered. “I... cammot danphe.”

“What?”

Sephiroth swallowed and cleared his throat, his dignified gaze still focusing somewhere pointedly _not_ Leon. “I cannot dance. I... barely manage to walk properly as it is.” He nodded curtly to his wing, as if it gave an excuse for his overly long strides. “ _Do not_ look at me like that.”

Leon was gaping. “You came to Beast’s Gala and _you can’t dance?!_ ”

“—Please Squall, keep talking.” Sephiroth’s face flattened with all the grace of cardboard, the light in his eyes dulling into scuffed green marbles, “I do not think everyone in attendance heard you note this particular failing of mine.”

Leon said nothing. (I just thought— with all the classical music—)

“So what are you to do now that you know this of me?” Sephiroth asked in a bored tone, primly brushing crumbs off of the front of his uniform. “Scoff? Laugh? Say some scathing remark that I’ve undoubtedly heard before?”

“No.” Leon said softly.

Instead, he tilted his head towards Sephiroth and smiled until he felt it crinkle the edges of his bright-sky eyes. His hand squeezed reassuringly against Sephiroth’s. “I’ll teach you how.”

-

Leon placed one of Sephiroth’s arms around his waist, lifting the other in the air. His free hand came to rest against Sephiroth’s shoulder. There was no need to correct the man’s posture— Sephiroth always held himself upright— a fact that lent itself to his air of haughty arrogance, but also his stoic, noble beauty— another hint of his past as a general.

“Pretend like there’s a square drawn on the ground.” Leon looked down. Sephiroth followed suit.

Leon said, “Now step forward onto the first corner of the square with your left foot”

As Sephiroth stepped forward, he over extended his foot and lost his balance, tumbling against Leon's shoulder. Softly, he cursed.

Leon held him against his chest until he was upright again. He grinned. “Slightly smaller steps." 

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, apparently more annoyed than embarrassed. He strode determinedly back into position, then stepped forward.

Leon stepped back at the same time. “There you go. Now slide your right foot to meet your left, then step to the right.”

As Sephiroth slid his foot, it stuttered behind slightly. He hissed.

“Don't be so hard on yourself," Leon said. "You almost had it. Now we step to the next corner of the square...”

And so they went until Sephiroth could navigate the imaginary square on the floor without stumbling, until he could manage each corner on count, a metronome of 1,2,3,4 1,2,3,4...

Gaining courage, Sephiroth finally glanced up at Leon, his feet left to find the corners of the square alone. He seemed pleased with himself as they both moved smoothly in tandem, a small upturn at the edge of his lips, his green eyes luminous with triumph and amusement.

It was a good look on him, Leon decided.

They moved in an elegant rhythm together, there, in their little box of floor space. A few guests stopped in their tracks to watch them, their eyes following, their hands elegantly clapping out a rhythm, entranced by the pair they made. The music carried them effortlessly through the waltz, a live string quartet.

This close to each other, Leon could feel the other man’s warmth, the steadiness of his breath, the strength of his muscles underneath his sleeves— the way he moved with swift agility— like a silver wind. This close to each other, Leon could catch the other’s scent— something as crisp as winter's first snow and yet verdant and _alive._

“You are... not too bad of a teacher,” Sephiroth admitted, whispering lowly against his ear. “You have patience with me, if nothing else.”

Leon smiled, taking the compliment in as if a ray of sunlight on his skin.

“I noticed you let me take the lead,” Sephiroth said, his curiosity for Leon seemingly bettering him again— despite his previously displayed instincts to run. “I believed that was hard to do when instructing someone, that it was better to teach them to follow first.”

Leon laughed. It was an open, joyful sound. “Rinoa never let me lead.”

“Rinoa?”  Sephiroth tilted his head at the name, his long silver bangs shifting. 

“Yes, Rinoa,” Leon said, his smile softening. His eyes slid over Sephiroth’s shoulder, but he didn’t stare at anything or anyone. Instead, he let his gaze travel somewhere far away, to another time and place— a place that didn’t exist any longer. “She was the girl I told you about at Atlantis Theater,” he said. “The girl who could sing like Christina.”

Sephiroth seemed to remember something then, his fine brows pinching briefly together in thought. “The almost nostalgic way you talked about her...”After a pause, he said. “You loved her.”

Leon widened his smile, but there was a certain sadness hidden in the corners. “Yes.”

Sephiroth’s feet went still. At once, his spine straightened and stiffened, his posture more becoming of a pale statue than a man. With a tone of warning, he said, “I told you that you cannot trick me into divulging my past.”

“I’m not interested in that. Not anymore.” Leon turned both his slate-blue eyes and his smile back to Sephiroth, fully present again.  “But I will tell you mine, anyways. Even though you’ve done nothing but make me miserable. Even though you don’t deserve it.”

Leon let both pairs of their arms fall to their sides, but he still held onto the ends of Sephiroth’s fingers. “I can tell you because, for the most part... I’ve made peace with it.”

Finally letting go, Leon walked to the double doors of the balcony and then outside.

He heard Sephiroth’s leather boots follow after him.

-

Here on the balcony they had privacy, the roar of the guests inside quieting to a dull background hum as the white double doors closed behind Sephiroth’s back.

Leon leaned his torso on the balcony railing, his arms crossed, looking out to the stars- glinting chips of silver in the vast blanket of space. They were much brighter and clearer here than in the bustling Hollow Bastion, the light pollution there having dimmed or hidden them from view without a telescope.

As soon as he felt Sephiroth behind him, he spoke, wasting no time, cutting straight to the heart of the thing. “I was 16 when the Heartless invaded my homeworld...”

“..I made my way to the ship as fast as I could and I ignored everything and everyone. As long as I didn’t see, didn’t hear, I didn’t care. I was an orphan. I didn’t have anyone else.”

Leon began the tale from the start, not turning to look back at Sephiroth. He paused, half-expecting him to tell him that he’d heard this part before or to make some disparaging comment.

When none came, he continued.

“On my way there, I saw something I could never forget. Something that still gets to me even now...” He paused, hugging his crossed arms closer to himself, curling his fingers into his sleeves.

“...There was... a woman. She was trapped underneath the weight of her own piano screaming for help, a swarm of Heartless clawing away at her, thick and black as a shadow.” Leon swallowed, “I looked away, kept going, I told myself that there was nothing I could do. I focused on my own survival. I had to get the hell to Traverse Town.”

Leon breathed in, shuddered, composed himself.

He gave a sidelong glance at Sephiroth, who had been oddly silent.

Sephiroth did not interrupt, instead inclining his head, a sheen of _something_ in his electric green eyes.

“Traverse Town is where I met Rinoa. Another survivor of my Homeworld.”

Leon finally smiled a little. “She was singing in a coffee shop. Her voice was like a bird’s wings soaring on air— I couldn’t help but stop and listen.”

His wane smile stretched wider. “She found me after, drinking coffee— straight black— in a booth alone. She made fun of me for it. She wouldn’t leave me alone.”

He chuckled slightly, “I honestly couldn’t stand her at first.”

Leon finally turned to face Sephiroth, leaning his back against the balcony railing. “She lived with her father. He didn’t like me very much. He blamed me for keeping her out past curfew when really it was _her_ being rebellious.”

He chuckled again, but quieter— an echo more than a laugh. “It’s funny how people wedge their way into your life when you aren’t noticing. And then they are just _there_ , and it’s like you can’t remember a time without them.”

Sephiroth looked away for a moment. When he looked back, it was as if he had compelled himself to do so. Still, he said nothing.

Leon looked down at his boots, still smiling. “She was... the first person I ever cared for.”

He licked his lips as if they were suddenly dry, his smile fading into nothing. “But that couldn’t last.”

“One day... Rinoa let me into her room. She showed me a picture of her mother. Told me how her mom had left for work one day and then never came back.” Leon still stared at his feet. “She told me how her father was still convinced she was alive, how their relationship had been rocky ever since. How she sang because her mother always loved to sing to her when she was young...”

Leon pressed his lips together, “It was the same woman I let get swallowed by the Heartless.”

Leon paused then. It took a long time for him to find his voice again. “I was overwhelmed. I left Rinoa there in that room... Alone.”

He paused again, then finally glanced up at Sephiroth. “I spent weeks avoiding her, but my feelings for her never changed. So I went to the coffeehouse to see her, to just get a glimpse of her through the window, somewhere where she wouldn’t notice me...”

“...But she wasn’t there. I found out that her father had taken her to a different world— and that he hadn’t told anyone where.” He chuckled pathetically.

“A year later...I got a letter from her saying she had written me a million times and that I never answered.” He licked his lips again. “I guess her father had been throwing her letters away.” His eyes narrowed for a moment. “In any case...”

“...She wrote to tell me she got married.”

Leon pushed off the railing, stepping towards Sephiroth. “That’s when I decided—I wasn’t going to be a coward anymore.  I needed to become a lion...”

“...I shed the name Squall. I joined the Committee to fight the Heartless. No one else's loved one was going to die on my watch. No one else _I_ loved was ever going to hurt like that again.”

Leon took another step, invading Sephiroth’s space. “And no one else was going to disappear somewhere without knowing how I felt about them. Never again.”

Sephiroth took a step back, away from him. “How you... feel?” Still, a flush of heat rose up his long, pale neck. His eyes darted away like a thing caged. He was ready to run again. 

Leon pressed in close again, felt an intake of breath against his face as he pressed in closer, their noses bumping.

He wrapped his arms around Sephiroth’s neck and kissed him.

Sephiroth did not react at first— his face and posture frozen, his eyes open and pupils still—and then he reacted all at once, his lips crashing against Leon’s like a wave breaking against the shore. He chased Leon’s mouth with his when he drew away for breath, kissing bottom lip and then top, nipping softly and then hard. He kissed like an animal, starved and desperate.

When they finally broke away, Sephiroth had an arm wrapped around Leon’s waist, pulling him close. The other hand brushed brunette bangs out of Leon’s face. His gloved thumb ran the length of Leon’s scar, gentle, his jade eyes following.

There was a worn sadness in those eyes as Sephiroth stared at him, his brows knitted together into a pinch on his forehead, his lips pulled into a thin frown, exhausted.

“I cannot do this,” Sephiroth finally whispered low, as if haunted by a ghost he could not name. “I wish I could, but Leon, I _cannot_.”

It was at that moment— when Leon had just opened his mouth to ask _Why? Why in Hyne’s name the fuck not?_ — that the sirens began to sound.

Inside, the dull murmurs of pleasant conversation disintegrated into a cacophony of confusion and fear. The crowd began to push, shove, and stampede over itself in its rush towards the entrance. They were a blur, a faceless swarm.

The white double doors swung open. The fire poker guard from before stood, its pointed head spinning urgently, “Sir Leon! You must board the gummi ship quickly! Hollow Bastion is under attack!”

Leon’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, his face ashen pale. “That can’t be... the patterns... they said we had at least a day left...”

Leon turned to look Sephiroth—

— but the man had already gone— teleported away.

A long black feather drifted to the ground in his place.

-

The door to Sephiroth’s home in Dark Depths was open when Leon arrived. All the lights inside were on, burning a gold that filled the room and shone in the windows— all except for the black shadow of Sephiroth moving within. An unzipped duffel bag of books had already been set out in front of the stone walls of the home, its contents half spilling out.

Leon stepped inside, watched as Sephiroth grabbed haphazardly at things and stuffed them into another duffel bag, its size slightly smaller than the first. His jade eyes didn’t even glimpse at Leon as he kept moving and packing, his tall back turned against him.

“So you’re really just going to run away instead of helping us fight?” Leon asked.

“Yes,” Sephiroth said. He did not stop, did not slow.

“Even after all I’ve told you?”

“Yes.”

Leon crossed his arms over himself and looked down, shaking. His fingers clenched tightly into his sleeves, his knuckles burning white and bright as his fury.

Then he sighed and let go, letting all of his anger go with his breath.

In its place was only a cavernous hole in his chest— a deep, fathomless sadness— a bottomless well.

Leon's voice was rough and quiet, “Just why are you so stubborn? Just what is so horrible in your past to make you like _this?_ ” 

Sephiroth stilled then, the line of his spine going tense.

Still, he did not turn to look at Leon.

Leon continued, “According to Ansem’s computer, you used to be some great general. Someone who risked his life to protect his Homeworld.” His voice grew braver, louder. “What happened to _that_ man? Huh? What made you such a coward?!”

Sephiroth looked at him then— gave him a narrow, side-long glance. His face was haggard and ashen, his bangs in gray tangles around the frame of his jaw. Red rimmed his eyelids.  He looked tired... so very damned _tired._

“You read the dossier,” Sephiroth whispered, his eyes as dull and heavy as lead. “That man is dead.”

Sephiroth then threw the duffel bag over his shoulder and left, the blare of Traverse Town’s emergency sirens sounding behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit short, but the next chapter is the last (plus an epilogue), so it's going to be LONG and it's going to take a bit to pump out. 
> 
> At the Gala, Sephiroth is wearing his Dissidia outfit and Leon is wearing his SeeD uniform. 
> 
> I just want to give a shout out to tocasia and everyone else who comments. You guys really keep me going. Thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> An old work from the past, polished up for my best friend. I intend to finish what I started. If no one gets this but us, then it was still worthwhile. 
> 
> The "does darkness exist" part is not mine. It comes from an old, false rumor about Albert Einstein saying this to an atheist professor. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Leon's thinking about his situation is Problematic in that he thinks its all his fault. It isn't. Sephiroth fully took advantage of him and that is something I am fully aware of as I write this story. Leon isn't aware, however, and Sephiroth's thinking is very warped.


End file.
